


Aerie

by WildBlueSonderling



Series: Avian Saga [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Soul Calibur
Genre: Death, Desire, F/M, Family Secrets, Girl Power, Historical Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, Politics, Sacrifice, Sexual Tension, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildBlueSonderling/pseuds/WildBlueSonderling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Assassin's work is never finished, and it certainly doesn't stay within the borders of Italy. Because Federico has a weakness for pretty women the Auditore family may have to deal with more than they can handle. They definitely weren't expecting to journey to the capital of the Ottoman Empire. Or to venture into the rough Carpathians. Or to help Federico's paramour in her quest to save Hungary from the influence of an ancient, unnatural evil that has plagued her family since the Third Crusade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any Assassin's Creed characters, Ubisoft does. I do not own any Soul Calibur characters, Namco does. This story features some fantastically-portrayed historical incidents and figures.  
> 

**Legacy**

My name is Didem Bayrakdarian.

I know that's a bit of a mouthful– feel free to blame my parents. My father is a cousin of the opera singer Isabel Bayrakdarian. They were both born in Lebanon and moved to North America as teenagers. Dad met my mother in New York; back then she was a dancer in a Moroccan restaurant. After getting married they moved to San Francisco to live a carefree life. When I was born my parents didn't have a name picked out yet so my mother blessed me with the moniker of one of her idols, the Turkish belly dancer Didem Kinali.

I thought it was a weird name so I made everyone call me Dee, then in junior high I acquired this annoying nickname Dee Bay. By the time I became a sophomore in high school I learned to love that stupid name, and that was also the year I started following in my mother's footsteps despite many arguments stating I would end up doing anything but.

Isn't it funny how that happens? As a teenager you hate everything your parents stand for and want to grow up to be completely unlike them. But when I turned twenty I realized we had more in common than I would have admitted a few years ago.

Apparently one of the things we shared was an affiliation with a group of people called Assassins.

I was taken after dancing at a renaissance faire in June. It was a great day– the sky cloudless, my outfit perfect, and all eyes on me. People like watching belly dancers because they admire the confidence required to perform sultry moves in a slinky outfit. Solo artists like myself require even more self-assurance.

After the show I returned to my friend's campsite to get some water, and all of a sudden two men appeared. I first noticed their white designer suits. One of them spoke into a device on his wrist and the other shot at me with a weird gun. I barely had time to register the dart sticking out of my arm. I woke up in a plain white room where everything looked smooth and futuristic, and my clothes had been changed.

As soon as I got out of bed a panel in the wall slid aside and in walked a balding older man with a thick beard. He introduced himself as Dr. Warren Vidic, a researcher working for a company called Abstergo, which I'd never heard of. He informed me I had been "procured" and safely transported to their laboratory in Italy so they could run some mental tests.

The first thing I wondered was how I got from northern California to Italy in a day, then it occurred to me that I must have been unconscious for at least a few days. I didn't believe Vidic was a normal doctor– he had an unsettling look in his eye that made me suspicious of his line of work. He had said  _mental_  tests, after all.

For fear of being shot and dumped in a back alley to rot, I followed the man to a different room with an odd-looking table in it. A blonde woman in a white lab coat introduced herself as Lucy Stillman. Vidic regarded me curiously while Lucy attached sensors to my head. I didn't ask what the machine did but the doctors took turns explaining it to me anyway. "This is the Animus," Vidic said fondly, "a device that lets us see your ancestors."

"It uses genetic memory retrieval to let you relive your ancestors' experiences," Lucy added while focusing on a keyboard.

Now I had questions. Who were these people, really? Why in the world did they want to see into  _my_  past? I didn't even know that much about my family history, but apparently there was something worth looking for in it. Since I hadn't said anything they both stared down at me expectantly.

"Well?" Vidic prodded, "Aren't you going to ask why we chose you to enter the Animus?"

I shook my head as best I could since it was trapped beneath a thin visor. "No... I just want you to get done with whatever you're doing and let me go home."

They shared a sly kind of smirk. "I do believe she's the most cooperative subject we've had so far," the elder man remarked. He looked back at me. "Didem—"

"Dee," I clarified. I did  _not_  want these people feeling we were familiar enough to use my given name.

"Dee..." Vidic smiled kindly, though it was laced with malice of the psychopathic variety. "You are going to be unconscious. Your body will not respond to any of the things you experience in the Animus, but your mind will make it feel real. When you wake up some things may be different about you."

"Like how different?" I asked. My nerves then decided to explode in my stomach and I took deep breaths to prevent myself from being sick. Was I about to develop a new personality ala Dr. Jekyll?

"You may find you possess certain qualities of your ancestors. There will be no physical effects, no transmutations or anything out of a sci-fi horror, but if you do 'change' in the Animus we will have to run further tests."

"Okay..." I sighed. "Can we just get this over with?"

That was the last thing I remembered until opening my eyes in the pure white room again.

* * *

It went on like that for a few weeks. I would wake up, be escorted to the Animus, plugged in, and have my brain probed for hours on end. Getting out of the machine left me so exhausted that all I could do was sleep, and I began having weird dreams. I saw myself as many different women in history, presumably my ancestors. Sometimes I would wake up with the ability to speak languages I had no prior knowledge of. Whenever that happened I was whisked off to a different lab where two scientists, one technician and one translator, attached sensors to my head and had random conversations with me until I started speaking English again. One day I overheard the linguist talking to Vidic outside the room.

"So far we've recorded Subject 19 conversing in Arabic, Persian and Turkish as well as dialects exclusive to nearby regions. Her genealogy is fairly concentrated."

"But when the effect wears off she is unable to remember any of it?"

"Precisely," the linguist said. "She can't even count to ten in anything but English."

"Interesting..." Vidic mused. "Upload those dictionaries to the Omniglot Program and let her listen to them tomorrow. We'll be able to tell if her temporal lobe has been traumatized."

Thanks to my nerdy dad I deduced what they were talking about. He studies languages like Latin, Ancient Greek, and Sanskrit for fun so I know that "omniglot" means "every tongue". They probably had a Rosetta Stone-type program going on to teach their employees how to become fluent in any language. Admittedly it was interesting to learn about my gene pool, but I worried I would soon leave the Animus believing I was somebody else entirely. I certainly didn't  _sound_  like myself most of the time.

Thankfully that never happened. I only spent three more days in Abstergo's clutches because I woke up to someone in my room wearing the exact opposite of a white lab coat.

It was a ninja.

At least, that was my first impression of the man. He scared the crap out of me when I noticed him standing beside the bed. "Don't scream," he whispered when my eyes widened, then he leaned forward. "Didem?"

"Y-y-yes, that's me." My teeth chattered like one of those wind-up toys. "Who are you?"

"Your father sent me to retrieve you. I can't delay– you need to come with me now. There's a guard on the way to check on you." He turned to grab a rope hanging from one of the ceiling panels and I stared in disbelief. This kind of thing only happened in spy movies!

 "Are we  _really_  going to crawl through the air conditioning ducts?" I asked from the ground. The ninja glanced down at me.

"You can stay here to continue being mind-fucked if you really want," he replied. My mouth dropped open incredulously, but I realized he was right. I should follow him if it meant a chance at reclaiming my life.

Once in the ventilation system, which was just large enough to shimmy through, I tried to make sense of the situation. "Who are you, exactly?"

"Johnathan Carpenter," he answered. "Professional corporate espionage agent and savior of fine women."

I ignored that comment. "Okay Johnathan… how did my father find out where I was? These people abducted me so it's not like they wrote him a letter explaining where they took me and what their plans were.”

We turned a corner and the duct widened, allowing us to crawl on hands and knees. "You underestimate your family, Dee. Your father's company is very powerful. Abstergo has been a corporate nemesis for a long time. Have you heard anything about the Omniglot Program?"

"Yes…" I answered suspiciously.

"Your father's company developed the prototype and Abstergo stole it. He believes they planted a mole in BayTech and waited for the programming to be finished."

"Why does Abstergo want a glorified Rosetta Stone program?"

Johnathan paused to look back at me and I almost ran into his butt. "Think about it. What’s the easiest way to tell a tourist? They have accents or barely speak the language of whatever country they're visiting. If you're a spy or recruiter, it's a lot easier to communicate when people believe you're a native. You make a personal connection based on language alone."

"That hardly seems nefarious."

He scoffed. "Okay, what’s one profession where translators are quintessential?"

"Televangelism?" I snarked.

"Interpreting for the United Nations."

Whoa. "You think Abstergo would send bombers into the United Nations building under the guise of interpreters?"

"They're more covert than that," Johnathan clarified. "We believe they plan to sow seeds of global chaos during the upcoming summit on nuclear power. All one of their agents has to do is say the wrong thing to spread misinformation and start a chain of fear. You don't realize it, Dee, but Abstergo is really the public face of a very secretive and ancient society of power-obsessed maniacs. They're called the Knights Templar."

Just as I began to wrap my head around all this, Johnathan slipped out of the ventilation system and landed in a small, dark room. I maneuvered through the square in the ceiling less gracefully and barely had a moment to catch my breath before being dragged down a narrow tunnel. "Where are we going  _now?_ " I demanded.

"A safe house" was all he said. We exited into a back alley where a sleek black Aston Martin waited.

"I hope you thanked my dad for providing you with such a nice getaway car," I stated. Johnathan was definitely enjoying his role as James Bond.

His teeth flashed in the night. "It had to be fast enough to get to Monteriggioni before dawn. Get in and buckle up, princess."

This guy was unreal! As we sped away from the laboratory that had been my prison for the past month I knew I must be dreaming. No one had known what happened to me and there was no way anyone had found out where I was. If these Abstergo people were as diabolical as described how could they have let a ninja sent by my father get to me so easily? "Monteriggioni?" I asked after a moment. It was hard to pronounce. "What's there?"

Johnathan’s green eyes flicked to me. "It's an Assassin safe house. Someone there was contracted by your father to keep you secure until safe transport back to the States can be arranged."

"Assassins?" I repeated dubiously. Assassins and Templars and terrorist plots... What the hell I had been dragged into?


	2. One

**Historian**

The Assassins were not at all like I expected. When we reached Monteriggioni Johnathan led me into an enormous mansion that would have looked very romantic seven-hundred years ago. The stone of the terrace was weathered and gray, the statues defeated, and plant life scarce. The village made me wonder how anyone could live here without being completely depressed.

We entered the villa through a secret doorway… only it wasn't so secretive because there was a mass of cords emerging from it. "Subtle," I remarked as Johnathan felt along the wall for something. If I hadn't been expecting it already the bookshelf that slid aside to reveal a long, dank staircase would have greatly surprised me. "Of  _course_  the meeting place for members of a secret society would be an underground lair!" Johnathan gave me an annoyed look; I should have taken this a little more seriously but it still seemed I'd left reality long ago. Down the steps we went, following the trail of extension cords until reaching the mouth of a very large, cluttered cavern.

Admittedly the enormous statues made my jaw drop. There were seven of them along the rear half of the cavern. Though their visages were made of solid stone I couldn't help but feel like fourteen eyes were trained on me, scrutinizing the very fiber of my being. I wasn't an Assassin, I didn’t belong with them.

"Ah, Johnathan!" A guy with brown hair and glasses approached. "Long time no see! How's life treating you?"

"Still the same shit on different days," Johnathan grinned, and they vigorously shook hands. "Well, I guess this month was a little out of the ordinary for me." I shuffled forward. "This is Didem Bayrakdarian, the ‘package’ I was sent to retrieve from Abstergo."

The guy with glasses lowered them a little, thoroughly examining me. "Well color me impressed," he said with a British accent, "she's more gorgeous than YouTube led me to believe!"

"You looked me up on YouTube?" I deadpanned. Who the heck  _was_  this guy?!

Johnathan interjected before the moment grew too awkward. "Dee, this is Shaun Hastings. Despite what you just heard he is quite brilliant with computers."

Shaun partially smirked. "I'm flattered. But really, are you sure she’s clean? No tracking chip implanted in her skin? It would really ruin our plans if Abstergo discovered our little hideout."

Oh, there's the kicker: he's totally paranoid. "Nobody at the lab put a needle in my skin," I said. "We made a clean getaway."

Johnathan nodded. "She's right, all they were interested in was her diverse gene pool. Dee was a subject of the Omniglot Program."

"You'll have to tell me all about that, darling." Shaun said.

I cringed. "Please don't call me that."

The grin faded. "All right, sorry. C'mon, let me introduce you to the others." I started following him into the center of the cavern but turned to give Johnathan a nervous look.

"You're safe with these people," the spy smiled. It carried a lot of reassurance. "I need to return to the States to inform your father of the situation and plan our next set of actions."

"Can't I just go with you?" I pleaded, searching his eyes for a real explanation. Didn't my parents want me back as soon as possible?

Johnathan shook his head and I sighed in defeat. "I'll see you soon, Dee. Just try to relax until then." With that my savior left, and I decided it would be better to get to know these Assassins and cooperate with them to the best of my ability instead of complain about being stuck here.

* * *

Rebecca Crane didn't really give me a second glance as she typed away on her computer. "Don't expect much hospitality from this one," Shaun said disdainfully. "Unless it has to do with the Animus, she won't give you the time of day."

"The Animus?" I repeated. " _You_  have one?"

Rebecca hopped up from her chair and beamed at me. I thought  _I_ was short but I had to look down into her face. "We couldn't let Abstergo have all the fun, could we? That's why I improved their specs and built the Animus 2.0. Baby is slimmer, more efficient, and less of a drag on your brain." She patted the machine affectionately, making me laugh.

"So who is this?" I inquired of the man currently occupying "Baby". He wore jeans and a white hoodie, had dark close-cropped hair, and a face that seemed way too familiar. I leaned in for a closer inspection. Yes… his features all reminded me of someone I had seen before. The scar across his lips should have been a dead giveaway but I couldn't place him in my memory.

"This is Desmond Miles," Rebecca answered. "He was born into the Order and actively eluded us until Abstergo captured him a while ago. Thanks to Lucy we got him back, and now we're using his memory to search for an Apple of Eden."

"Lucy?" I asked, shuddering at the image of the woman whose tight blonde bun made her visage so unkind. "Lucy Stillman?"

"Yes, that's me," came a voice from behind. I whirled around to face her. "I'm surprised to see you here, Dee."

"The feeling is mutual," I practically growled.

Both Shaun and Rebecca glanced between us. "Um, Lucy is actually an agent we sent to infiltrate Abstergo a long time ago," the latter explained. "Thanks to the intel she provided I was able to build this Animus. The Templars had no idea she would double-cross them until she broke Desmond out of their lab."

"So you’re really one of the good guys?" I inquired with much skepticism.

"Yes," Lucy nodded. "I brought Desmond here so we could search for the Apple on our own terms. Vidic was obsessed with finding it. As soon as Abstergo discovered that Desmond's ancestor had physically interacted with the Apple, I got him out of there. Now we hope to find it before the Templars."

"What use would they have for an apple? What's so special about a fruit?"

The three Assassins looked at me in mild disbelief. "You mean you don't  _know?_ " Rebecca finally asked. "How do you not know about the Apple of Eden?” I just shook my head. Incredulous, she turned to Lucy. "What was Abstergo doing with her if they weren't using her ancestors to find Pieces of Eden?"

"They had me in the Omniglot Program," I offered. "When I went in the Animus I would come out speaking different languages. It was like I never knew English."

That answer did little to placate their confusion. Lucy remained tight-lipped, but Shaun stepped forward and pushed me away from the two women. "You and I need to have a chat. I can tell you don't trust Lucy but she didn't know you would be coming here in the first place. Your father contacted me specifically."

"How do you even know Johnathan?" I wondered, taking a seat on one of the many crates lining the outer edge of the cavern. Shaun sat down beside me.

"We worked together on the same job a long time ago. I'm a hacker, you see, and he physically retrieves data. We were contracted by the same company to gather dirt on their rival before I got into trouble with Abstergo. Seems they didn't appreciate me posting information about their sketchy dealings on WikiLeaks. That's when Rebecca intervened in my abduction, and I've been aiding the Assassins ever since."

"They kidnapped you, too?"

"Almost," the man grinned. "I escaped when they pulled into a gas station after I hacked the van's computer." My impressed expression was probably inflating his ego, but he focused the conversation on me. "Tell me what you remember about being in the lab."

I sighed. "I wish I could, but it feels like my memories are all scrambled together. Lucy and Vidic put me in the Animus and I can recall living pretty boring days as a few ordinary women. It was like I was being reincarnated over and over again." That sounded really stupid and I blushed.

"Go on," Shaun urged.

"My father is Lebanese and my mother is Turkish, but it turns out my whole bloodline is comprised of Middle Eastern cultures. Turkey, North Africa, Arabia, Persia… I even saw Jerusalem once. And the Babylonian hanging gardens. I saw some amazing things that have been lost to history but most of it is just clouds and smoke."

The man nodded. "Did any of the workers ever mention the Pieces of Eden or similar artifacts?"

"I don't really remember," was my morose reply. "I  _can't_  remember."

"Well, allow me to fill in some blanks," Shaun offered. "Abstergo wanted Desmond because his ancestor came in contact with a very powerful device called the Apple of Eden. He is Subject 17. Abstergo found him after probing the memories of Subject 16. That man committed suicide in his cell but not before writing messages all over the lab with his own blood. Or that's what Desmond tells us since it seemed only he could see them."

"That’s morbid," I said with a grimace. "Who was Subject 16?"

"I don't really know, but Lucy was working with him. What I do know is that he suffered from something called the Bleeding Effect. That is, he believed he really  _was_  his ancestor, an Assassin. He was able to demonstrate incredible athletic abilities even though he’d come into the lab without them."

My eyes were wide. "That's what the Animus did to him? So being able to speak the languages of my ancestors was like the Bleeding Effect?"

"It  _is_  the Bleeding Effect, just mental instead of physical," Shaun explained. "Chances are, Dee, that you were acquired by Abstergo because they found something in the genetic memory of another subject linking it to you."

"What could it be?" I asked after a moment.

The Englishman shrugged. "Hell if I know. Let's ask Lucy."

* * *

"It's called Soul Edge," the blonde woman apprehensively explained. Rebecca, Shaun and I sat before her, listening intently. "We first found it in one of our early subjects but thought nothing of it. But then it appeared again in Desmond, in the memory of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad before his search for the Apple."

"So this Soul Edge device precedes the Pieces of Eden?" Shaun inquired.

Lucy shook her head. "I don't know– we never discovered its origins. It wasn't a device like the Apple, either. It was… a weapon, I guess. A weapon that transformed whoever wielded it into a monster." She shuddered a little at the image. "During the Third Crusade, knights gathered outside Jerusalem to fight an Assassin army led by Altaïr. That was when we discovered an ancestor of yours, Dee– Tülay al-Mhámmed from medieval Turkey."

I hummed. "That makes sense. My mom is half Turkish and half Armenian. Her parents live in Istanbul."

"Your ancestor lived in Iconium and Masyaf for a time. But it was the battle in Jerusalem that Vidic mostly focused on, because…" Lucy faltered, frowning deeply. "Well, it's hard to explain what happened."

"Come out with it," Shaun kindly prodded.

"Soul Edge…  _attached_  itself to Dee’s ancestor."

I’m sure I donned a look of slight horror, but a chill went through me and made me numb. You’d think I would remember something as significant as  _that_  playing out in my mind. "Then what happened?" Rebecca wanted to know.

"We cross-referenced the event in Desmond's genetic memory and it was exactly the same. Your ancestors fought in the same battle against a man named Isaac Comnenus."

"I know that name," Shaun jumped in. "He took over the island of Cyprus and was generally a pain in the ass for everyone during the Third Crusade. He even had the gall to hold King Richard's fiancée and sister hostage when their ship wrecked there. But he wasn't really associated with any faction of that time. He fell when Richard invaded Cyprus and sold it to the Knights Templar."

Lucy waved her hands. "History lesson aside, Vidic decided to pursue information about Soul Edge since it had been powerful enough to make an impression in two separate strands of genetic memory. But by that time I had freed Desmond from the lab and rejoined with these two."

"And this all happened  _before_  Johnathan brought me here?" I attempted to clarify. "How come I don't remember anything you've described? I don't understand…"

Rebecca cleared her throat softly. "Right now we're tracking another of Desmond's ancestors, an Italian nobleman named Ezio Auditore. But if you'd like to enter the Animus and try to find out about this Soul Edge thing we can do that, too."

I saw Lucy's eyes flash at the suggestion and couldn't help but wonder if she was still interested in the weapon. I was too, I guess; I just wanted to see what everyone else already had. At the very least I could probably offer some cultural pointers. I glanced at Lucy. "What did you say the name of my ancestor was?"

"Tülay al-Mhámmed," she repeated.

 _'New moon,'_  I thought.  _'A time of uncertain darkness.’_  A strange sensation went through me just then. Instinct told me to pursue this link to my past because I might discover something amazing. "Okay," I said after a lengthy silence. "I'll enter the Animus and try to find Soul Edge."

Shaun was shocked. "Really? Why?"

"Because I have a feeling that something like Soul Edge, if it  _is_  such a powerful weapon, wouldn't go unnoticed through history up until now. I want to find out what happened to it. And you said it  _attached_  to my ancestor, so I want to make sure it didn’t muck up my genealogy too badly." Lucy laughed a little.

"Well that's great!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Now we'll be able to bring two super-powerful artifacts under the supervision of our Order."

"Yay, more work for me," Shaun grumbled. He returned to his computer and presumably began Googling anything related to Soul Edge. I turned my attention to Desmond as he awoke from Baby; Lucy had to help him sit up because he was so groggy. I recalled feeling that way when exiting the Animus and immediately being transferred to the room with the translator. I remembered the feeling of cold wired pads on my temples and forehead, but not much else. Maybe my mind was just too weak.

Lucy said my ancestor lived during the Third Crusade. That was over eight centuries ago. If Soul Edge caused so much chaos in the Middle East there had to have been some people keeping watch over it, right? To make sure nobody used it for nefarious purposes. If I had seen what Lucy and Vidic had maybe I could contribute more to the team besides being their conduit.

Rebecca's voice dispersed my thoughts. "I have to reconfigure Baby a little bit before she'll be ready for you."

"All right," I said, watching Lucy and Desmond. Tülay existed in his genetic memory too; maybe I could find out about her before stumbling blindly back in time. I wish Johnathan had better prepared me for dealing with these Assassins and their strange machinations.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fratellino: little brother  
> Fottiti: fuck you  
> Salut: hello  
> Perdita: name meaning 'little lost one'  
> Signorina: miss  
> Mia columba: my dove  
> Zoccola: sewer rat, slut  
> Fantasma: ghost, spirit  
> Tartaruga: tortoise  
> Altezza: highness  
> Merda: shit  
> Fra: bro

**Cipher**

I felt like a stalker. Watching Desmond recover from the Animus was fascinating yet depressing because I knew I had acted in a similar if not worse manner. Luckily he had Lucy fawning over him whereas I’d lain in bed wondering if my brain were turning to mush. Was I jealous? Maybe a little. Desmond had had an ally since setting foot in Abstergo. Whatever this Apple thing was, it made him much more valuable to the Assassins and Templars than me.

Finally my opportunity to speak with Desmond arrived when Lucy mentioned she was going outside to patrol the grounds. Although I was eager to skip right over and begin a conversation I walked toward Shaun's work area first. His chin rested in one hand and he wore an enraptured smile. As I drew closer I heard a song emanating from his speakers, an ethnic drum solo I instantly recognized. I frowned as the computer monitor came into view. “Are you _really_ watching YouTube videos of me?”

"Indeed," the man said, sighing wistfully. "You’re an amazing dancer, Dee. I wish I could have seen you in person before all this." His eyes suddenly widened. "Could you dance for me right now?”

"Uh,  _no_ ,” I answered, recoiling a little. “Belly dancing isn’t some party trick. It takes a bit of preparation.” Shaun looked so dejected I almost gave in to his request, but then he returned to the video and got all twitterpated again. It was a performance with my old troupe before I opened my own studio and began a teaching career, just basic choreography.

For a few minutes I forgot all about Desmond. I was kind of upset with Shaun for ogling me yet flattered he found me attractive. Because I’ve been focused on my dancing career I never had much of a love life; I was no pure, virginal maiden though. At sixteen I was so concerned with rebelling against my parents that I snuck out of the house to go to some rich kid's party. I drank way too much and made out with a boy I had a crush on. He had a crush on me too, so alcohol and hormones ran away with our inhibitions and we ended up doing it in the guest bedroom upstairs. I went home right after– inebriated, confused, and excited all at once because I wasn't a virgin any more. Is that cliché or what?

Desmond withdrew me from my musings with his presence. I turned to see him regarding me in a shyly-curious manner; I was the strange new girl in this clique. "Hey… How was the Animus?" I asked lamely.

"Same as always," he replied with a shrug. "I watch one of my ancestors run around renaissance Italy. He's seventeen and horny."

This caught me off guard. "What?" I laughed.

"His name's Ezio. He lived in Florence and got into a gang fight with some guys called the Pazzi. Later he climbed into the room of some girl and they… tangled the sheets."

His faint blush made me smile. "You saw all that through the Animus?"

"I can't choose what I see." He shrugged again, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just along for the ride."

All my preconceived notions of Desmond flew right out the window. He sounded just like me– he wanted to get it over with and go home. He had a very unintimidating demeanor that put me at ease. "So Desmond…" I casually began, "Lucy tells me you've seen one of my ancestors who fought alongside  _your_  ancestor, Altaïr. Her name was Tülay al-Mhámmed. Do you remember her at all?"

The man furrowed his brow as he scrolled through the portrait gallery of his memory. "A girl named Tülay? Why are you asking me?"

It was kind of embarrassing to explain. "The thing is I can't remember her at all. I can't recall  _any_  faces of the ancestors I may have seen while in the Animus." We wandered over to a pair of crates and sat down. He still remained deep in thought, but I was growing impatient. "She was a dancer," I offered.

"Oh!" Desmond triumphantly exclaimed. But the expression quickly shifted to one of embarrassment. "Yeah, I remember her."

"So what was she like?" I prodded. "Can't you tell me?"

"I can, but…" The blossoms in his cheeks grew darker. "Altaïr and Tülay, they were, uh…"

"Romantically involved?" Shaun finished. We turned to see him smirking. "Are you saying that your and Didem's ancestors were  _shagging_?"

Bewildered, I faced Desmond as he stared at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid me. "Um, yeah."

Now  _I_  was the one blushing. "Was that all she was to him?"

"No!" he refuted. "I think they really loved each other. Tülay left her own country to follow Altaïr to the home of the Assassins, Masyaf. Then she became an Assassin, too."

"Really?" Shaun and I asked in unison. He then laughed incredulously. "That means there is Assassin blood in your veins, Didem."

That statement struck me like a slap in the face. My mouth hung open uselessly as a different, welcoming smile turned Shaun's lips and Desmond leaned back to study me. Rebecca wore a smug little grin as she approached. "I knew you belonged here," she said. "And if you want to learn more about your past, Baby is waiting to help you discover it. What do you say?"

A resolute nod was her answer. "I'm ready."

* * *

A sea of terracotta tiles greeted the sky at the horizon. Dying sunlight struck towers with spears of bright orange and blood red, glinting off cascading fountains below. The leaves of trees and young plants wavered in a soft breeze caressing the city like the hand of a lover, and a girl situated high above the thinning crowd sighed wistfully.

This was the night she realized the true beauty of Florence. It made a grand impression on those who walked its many streets where the architecture of the Renaissance was prominent in every structure, and peeking into galleries revealed the vivid imagination of every artist. Still-life paintings hung on walls and even more lifelike sculptures sat proudly atop marble pedestals for all to admire. But the girl knew that this very moment embodied what had attracted her to the city in the first place.

She felt at peace. She felt  _free_. Her matriarchs were not around to constantly harass her about trivial things such as hair style and choice of jewelry. She was nineteen years old for God's sake, certainly capable of making those decisions on her own. Although… it  _had_  been rather immature of her to run away from home without giving them a proper farewell. "I wonder if they miss me," she thought aloud. No one else was on the rooftops to hear. “They have no inclination of where I’ve gone.”

Just then her azure gaze was averted to a bridge where two groups of boys shouted heated words at each other. Italian was similar to her native tongue but she only knew how to speak it formally, and there was nothing proper about their dispute. The girl carefully traversed some adjoining rooftops to gain a better view of the action. She crouched beside a chimney, gasping when one boy was struck with a stone from the opposing side. "The fight begins!" she narrated, snorting as the two factions met in a flurry of flying fists. The brawling continued for several minutes until a young man in pompous attire commanded his cohorts to flee the scene, then a pair of victors took turns looting their unconscious enemies. The girl couldn't condemn them for stealing since that was how she had acquired some of the funds for her journey.

The wind lifted their words to her ears. "Hey fratellino, that's a nasty cut Vieri gave you! We’d better get you to the doctor."

"It's not that bad, Federico. I'll live." Ah, so they were brothers. This one was younger and had a short ponytail.

"I can't let you return home with blood all over your face! Come, we'll get you stitched up." She preferred the older brother’s voice– it was strong and confident, very leader-like. Intrigued by the duo, the girl followed them from above as they navigated the urban maze. But when they passed beneath a covered thoroughfare she quickly scrambled down a drainpipe to pursue them on foot, oblivious to the strange looks she received. Peeking around the corner of a brick store, she spied the brothers conversing with a masked physician in a dark robe. "You must help him!" Federico pleaded with mock urgency. "That pretty face is his only asset!"

"Fottiti…" the boy muttered, but allowed his wound to be treated with antiseptic. After the two had wandered away from the doctor Federico turned to his brother with a broad grin.

"Now that you're all fixed up, what do you say to a little race?"

"Where to?"

Federico pondered their goal. "How about Santa Trinita, three blocks away." The younger brother puffed out his chest at the challenge. "But as an added measure to ensure you don't  _cheat_ , we have to stay off the streets! What say you now?"

"Ezio Auditore doesn’t need to cheat! I can beat you without breaking a sweat!"

Federico laughed loudly. "All right then! On your mark… get set… Go!"

And then they were gone. The sun had all but vanished below the horizon. It was time to return to the place the girl called temporary home even though sleep would not be granted immediately; the atmosphere of the brothel made it difficult. "Salut," she said to her employer as she plodded through the door, realizing just how tired she was.

Paola raised an eyebrow. "And where have  _you_  been all day?"

"Referring customers, of course." That was a lie. She'd spent all of her waking hours studying the populace from rooftops and balconies.

The woman in the deep red dress frowned but it didn’t ruin her fine features. "Is that so? Very few men who came said they had met you. That means you weren’t doing your job, so you only get one bowl of soup for dinner."

"I was not very hungry anyway." She mustered a look of defiance that Paola scowled at before sighing and dismissing the young woman. She was unwilling to provide her real name so the matron of La Rosa Colta called her 'Perdita'. She had been discovered while playing a tambourine and kicking up her feet for all the florins her audience might spare. In exchange for food and a roof, Perdita attracted men and directed them to the brothel in lieu of pleasuring them herself, since sex outside of marriage went against her faith. She was wonderful bait; compared to the olive-skinned, dark-haired women of Florence, she stood out like a peace dove.

The next morning Perdita was rejuvenated by a long bath. She combed her hair until it rippled like a golden waterfall, waves cascading down her back. She decorated her fingers with many rings so they would sparkle in the sunlight and catch attention. After slipping on a short, sleeveless chemise she shimmied into a bright red skirt, then tightened a red brocade corset around her waist. She didn't actually like the ensemble because the color brought bad luck, but Paola said it looked good on her. "Get something to eat!" the matron called when Perdita came downstairs. The front door closed on her words and Paola sighed.

Perdita jovially walked to the fresh produce market and sashayed up to her favorite vendor, an older man who was always happy to trade a small carton of grapes for a kiss on the cheek. She savored each one as she made her way to the street running parallel to Palazzo Auditore, one of the largest banking houses in Florence. It was a logical place to gain clients for La Rosa Colta since rich men had to find  _some_  pleasurable outlet. She might as well persuade them to spend their money on Paola’s courtesans.

In the late afternoon, after successfully referring yet another man, Perdita suddenly felt a tap on the shoulder. She spun around and came face to face with the tall, handsome, short-haired boy she had followed last night. "Pardon me, signorina," Federico smiled charmingly. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve been standing out here all day. It has been quite distracting.”

Perdita copied the smile and planted a hand on her hip. "What may I do for you?"

The boy's eyebrow arched upon catching her accent. "Where are you from?" he inquired.

"Is that truly of importance?" she returned, brushing his muscular arm.

He laughed. "No, I suppose not. Can I ask your name?"

"Perdita," she answered, then frowned when Federico scoffed.

"What's your  _real_  name, mia columba? It’s obvious you weren’t born here." Perdita unexpectedly found herself blushing. Her sky blue gaze fell to a clasp on his doublet as she bit her lip, considering revealing her real name for the first time since arriving in the city. "Come on…" Federico pushed, slipping a finger beneath her chin. "I must know what to call the most ravishing lady of Firenze."

Just as Perdita parted her lips to give him an answer a shout interrupted her. "Federico Auditore!" the boy's mother admonished, "Get away from that  _trollop!_  Your father has been looking for you the past ten minutes! What are you doing out here with this zoccola?!"

The young man offered an apologetic look before taking up Perdita’s hands. "Ciao, my darling," he whispered. "I will see you again soon!" And with that he kissed her fingers, winked, and crossed the street to join his mother, who shook her head disdainfully. Speechless and stunned, it took a moment for Perdita to regain command of her thoughts. Not once during the year and a half she lived in Florence had anyone spoken to her like Federico.

 _'What does this mean?'_  she wondered before dashing down the road on bare feet. She didn’t notice the shocked looks she received, stopping only once she had reached a vacant back alley. She scampered up a pile of crates and grabbed the building's ornate molding, hoisting herself onto the roof. Fresh air always cleared her head and made it possible to think. "Federico…" Perdita murmured, still blushing He was so handsome!  _’But he is one of them, an Auditore… He would never tarnish his name by taking interest in one such as I.'_ Or would he despite his family's disapproval?

Once more she sat on the roof until twilight. Then, much to her surprise, a figure appeared in the distance, climbing a tall tower that had once been the home of an eagle's nest. Perdita blinked a few times before recognizing Federico's younger brother, Ezio. He ascended the tower slowly since it was relatively smooth except for the odd stone jutting out. Perdita smiled when he reached the top and wiped his brow, taking in the view. He reached over the edge of the landing to gather a few wayward feathers lodged in the brickwork. Just then a setting sunbeam lanced into the girl's eyes and she moved to shield them. Ezio caught the motion and squinted to see her more clearly, which was difficult because her attire matched the color of the sky. "Hey you!" he called, jabbing a finger in her direction. "Fantasma!"

His unfriendly tone made Perdita scurry off the roof. Ezio shook his head, wishing he had gotten a better look at the figure. Back on the ground he handed the eagle feathers to his younger brother Petruccio. "Did you say you saw a ghost?" he questioned.

"I don't know," Ezio shrugged. "I'm certain there was somebody watching me from the roof. It was hard to see with the sun blinding me."

"I wish I had seen!" the little boy pouted.

"Didn't I say you had to go to bed once you got those feathers?" Ezio folded his arms to convey authority as Petruccio tried to look tough. "Bed.  _Now_."

Back at La Rosa Colta, Perdita burst through the door in a flurry of red fabric and strewn hair. A few of the other girls gave bewildered looks and Paola appeared genuinely concerned. "Whatever is the matter?" she inquired.

"Nothing," Perdita wheezed. "Nothing is wrong."

Was that guilt in her tone? Paola pursed her lips as Perdita went upstairs to her room. Once inside she stared at herself in the mirror, taking in her disheveled appearance as a result of her marathon. She looked like a ruffian so what had Federico been attracted to? Still flushed, she sat down at the vanity desk to brush her hair. Maybe  _that_  was something the boy liked. Maybe he had seen something in her eyes that were like the shallow fountains so numerous throughout the city. She wasn't a complicated girl, there was nothing hiding in them.

Perdita thought seriously of quitting her job to become a proper lady, then it would be appropriate for Federico to be seen with her. He could introduce her to his family without feeling the least bit ashamed; maybe the house of Auditore would even congratulate him! The girl smiled shyly at her reflection.  _‘Federico fancies me.’_ The thought made her completely giddy.

* * *

Morning in the Auditore home was semi-chaotic as usual. Giovanni had many clients to meet with and his secretary, Giulio, scribbled a schedule to put order to the madness. His wife, Maria, enjoyed the peace of the garden out back, so that left Claudia attempting to tidy up while Ezio and Federico were summoned by their father.

"I have many letters that must be delivered today," Giovanni stated, "so many that I need your quick feet to help me." Giulio proffered two leather satchels containing several envelopes and scrolls. Ezio started to whine but his father cut him off. "Since I know neither of you are truly interested in the financial aspect of my business…" Here he looked at them disapprovingly. "…the least you can do is fulfill your duties as couriers. How does that sound?"

"No problem, Father," Federico grinned. "I'm sure I'll get all my deliveries made before this slowpoke."

Ezio scoffed. "Ten florins says you don't!"

They shook hands before Giovanni sighed and waved them away. Once in the street Federico rummaged through his satchel to find the first recipient. "Hey, this is addressed to Duke Lorenzo! I wonder what business Father has with him?”

Ezio shrugged. "Perhaps he wishes to invest in more artists."

"Or one in particular…" Federico mused, knowing his mother was particularly fond of a budding artist named Leonardo. Ezio had yet to meet the man but today Maria was supposed to put up some of his work in their home. "Get going, tartaruga." Federico gave his sibling a push in the opposite direction. "Unless you want to hand over those florins right now."

He set off in the direction of the Arno. Federico quickly counted that he had fifteen pieces of mail to deliver, taking each address into consideration. They were spread all over town but several destinations could be found near the Vespucci mansion where Ezio's latest conquest, Cristina, lived under the not-so-vigilant eye of her father.

Ezio was not as efficient as his older brother and found himself constantly back-tracking to places he had already been. After the third occurrence he sat down to catch his breath and took stock of the remaining letters. He was overjoyed to discover they were all to be delivered to the same quarter, and with the imminent promise of ten more florins filling his wallet he continued on quite leisurely.

Federico saved the note to Duke Lorenzo for last. He loitered outside the grand palazzo of the Medici, somewhat apprehensive to knock on the door since it had become quite late in the day. The portal swung open just as he reached for it and he jumped back, earning a surprised look from a finely dressed manservant. Simultaneously he heard many sets of booted feet falling upon the road behind him. Federico turned, his mouth immediately dropping open at the impressive procession.

Two groups of armored soldiers flanked a carriage pulled by four black-as-night horses. A man wearing a navy blue and gold waistcoat jumped down from the driver's seat and opened the door of the carriage, standing smartly to one side. The person who emerged made Federico shudder. By now several Florentine commoners had gathered around, their chatter a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. The nobleman wore the same colors as his driver but his upper body was covered with a wing-etched breastplate and thick spaulders. His hair was shoulder-length, deep red in color and topped with a modest crown. He had a large nose, narrow chin, and sunken blue eyes.

"Welcome to Firenze, Altezza." The Medici servant bowed low, sweeping his arm toward the palazzo. "Messer Lorenzo has been expecting you. Please come in." As the powerful man ascended the steps, his dark fur cape trailing tall leather boots, the knights all turned as one toward the crowd, the clatter of their armor and weapons startling everyone. Federico remained petrified until the servant acknowledged his presence. "What business do you have here, young master?"

"Ah…" Federico hesitated before producing the sealed envelope. "For Duke Lorenzo from Ser Auditore."

The servant nodded. "Thank you. I'll see he receives this as soon as possible." With that the door closed in his face and Federico nearly tripped down the steps. He gave the soldiers a wide berth, regarding them uneasily while assuming the eyes beneath the plumed helms watched him in turn. Once he reached the safety of the crowd he broke into a run, sprinting all the way home.

"Father!" he bellowed upon reaching the sanctity of the palazzo. "FATHER!"

It was Annetta the maid who answered his call. "What are you shouting about, Federico?" She squeaked in surprise when the boy fiercely gripped her shoulders.

"Where is my father?!" he demanded.

"M-Messer Giovanni has l-l-left to speak with the gonfaloniere!" she stammered.

"Merda!" Federico hissed. "Is anyone else here?!"

"Only Ezio!"

He apologized and released the woman. Ezio was no help at all; surely he would be just as oblivious as to why there was a contingent of armored men and a foreign dignitary at the Medici household. Federico wracked his brain for answers but could recall no mention of a noble's arrival. Making his way to the parlor, he slumped into a cozy armchair and stared at the crackling fire. The sun had set and their evening meal was almost ready, but he had no appetite despite having spent an entire day traversing the city. Annetta cautiously approached while clearing her throat. "Would you like a glass of wine, or some focaccia? It's fresh."

"Yes to both," the young man calmly replied. He rubbed his temples to make his thoughts more coherent, but the peace he achieved didn't last long because Ezio came stomping triumphantly down the stairs.

" _There_  you are, brother! I wondered when you would return! I waited for you outside for half an hour, so I believe you owe me ten florins! Who's the slowpoke now?"

"It is still you," Federico chuckled, surrendering the amount of their wager. Normally Ezio's gloating would goad him into a retaliatory argument but for once he sat idly, saying nothing at all.

"What's wrong?" Ezio queried. "Are you mad that Mama chased away that girl?"

"What girl?"

"The one you met in the street yesterday, the one in the scarlet dress."

Federico lifted an eyebrow. "What did you think of her?"

"She was pretty… for a whore."

"She's not a whore," he refuted. "Even though she was dressed like one I could tell her legs have opened for no man."

His brother snorted. "How do you tell that? Let me know so I don't have to guess next time—"

"Next time you what?" Federico interrupted. "Jump in bed with some other girl? Cristina is the best one you've ever met, fratellino. You should think about marrying her." He thanked Annetta when she brought a goblet of wine and olive focaccia with dipping oil. "I wish I  _could_  see Perdita again…"

Ezio swiped at the bread and came away with a substantial chunk, chewing it thoughtfully. "Why don't you go the brothels and look for her? If she works for one of them she's bound to be found sooner than later."

"Think of how our reputation would suffer if people saw me frequenting the red light district," Federico sighed. "I cannot do that to Father. I won't soil our name."

"Fine, then I'll go!" Ezio declared, leaping to his feet. The scar that had formed on his lip gave him a rather maniacal countenance. "Coming? You can stand outside."

"Very well…" Federico acquiesced. "Only a minute in each, then we move on."

Ezio puffed out his chest. "It doesn't even take me that long, fra'." The lewd smirk could have jumped right off his face. Federico only shook his head before following his brother into the night.


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tesoro: treasure  
> Fratello: brother  
> Signore: mister  
> Madonna: madam  
> 

**Enchantress**

Federico stole along silently behind his brother while they slunk down darkened streets. He really didn't want anyone to witness them heading to every brothel in Florence, and for that reason he wore a black cloak to shield his visage. He didn’t really have faith that Ezio would be capable of finding Perdita; since that was most likely not her real name Federico kept reminding him to use a physical description of the girl. "Yes, yes, I  _know_ …" Ezio waved off his latest concern. "Just wait here." He stepped through the door of a bordello with a name that constituted false advertising– it was rather run-down and smelled terrible from being situated near the Arno. Federico hoped his beautiful dove was not inside.

Ezio emerged after a minute. "No good, let's move on." He had similar luck at the next brothel and the one after. Federico voiced his waning confidence in the plan. "You can't give up now!" Ezio said, giving him a hard pat on the back. "Look, we're at 'La Rosa Colta'. I bet you five florins she’s here."

"No more betting…" his brother sighed. "You've taken enough of my money today.

Furrowing his brow, Ezio opened the door to the house of indulgence. His nose was instantly assailed by thin clouds of incense and floral potpourri. It was certainly the best-smelling bordello he'd ever been in! The women lounging around looked up at him from beneath long lashes, smiling coquettishly. "Welcome," said an attractive woman in a red crushed velvet dress. "What can we do for you, Messer…?"

"Ezio, and good evening. I have come on behalf of one who is interested in a girl you have.”

"How selfless of you!" Paola exclaimed. "Which girl would that be?"

“She has fair hair, pale skin and blue eyes. I believe her name is Perdita.”

All the women laughed, a cacophony of hurtful snickers that shattered Ezio’s confidence. Paola quieted her courtesans with a hard look, then smiled at the boy. "Perdita is indeed here," she said. "Would you like me to fetch her?"

"Yes, thank you," Ezio said. He managed to keep his head held high but was aware that the women whispered insulting things about Perdita.

"Nobody comes here for her, tesoro," a beauty explained from the nearest divano. "She's not a real woman like the rest of us."

"She is a virgin?"

"But of course," the courtesan tittered. "No man  _ever_  comes for her."

After a few minutes Paola returned from the upper level with a subtly irritated expression on her face. "Perdita will meet you outside, Messer Ezio. I assume your friend has sent our house-call fee with you?" It took him a moment to comprehend what she meant. He surrendered the florins while resolving to make Federico pay him back double since he was too much of a coward to visit the bordellos himself. Ezio then stepped back out into the street where Federico anxiously emerged from the gloom.

"She's here, isn't she? You were in there a while."

"Sorry, I was just sampling the fruit," Ezio lied. "They've never heard of Perdita. My apologies, fratello." Federico looked completely crushed. His sibling was just about to laugh amiably and come clean when a small voice spoke.

"Messer Federico?" He whirled around, the cloak flaring dramatically, and rushed to embrace the girl. She shied a little since she couldn’t see his face. "Is it you?"

"Yes, mia columba… it is I, Federico Auditore!" He swept her fingers to his lips, soliciting a tiny gasp.

"But what are you doing here, signore?" Perdita inquired. "Why did you come looking for me?"

Federico's eyes glittered despite the shadows surrounding them. "I had to, Perdita. I promised I would see you again, didn't I?"

"But your mother…"

He scoffed. "I don't care what she thinks! Please, return with me to our palazzo. You look like you need a hearty meal." Ezio agreed; she was way too thin. Her corset revealed no cleavage at all.

Once home the trio found only Annetta in the entire house aside from Petruccio who was sleeping off a cold. "Where are Mother and Father and Claudia?" Ezio inquired. He had hoped to witness the debacle between Maria and Federico for bringing home a prostitute.

"Madonna took your sister to the theater," the maid explained, "and your father is still out."

"Oh…" he grumbled, side-eyeing his brother. It looked like things would occur in his favor, and after Ezio did all the work!

Federico pulled out one of the dining chairs and Perdita sat down gingerly. "Annetta, would you mind if this lovely lady tasted the dinner you worked so hard on since no one else is here to enjoy it?" He was on his best behavior in hopes that the maid wouldn't tell either of his parents about the girl he'd be taking to bed. Annetta regarded him narrowly but left to make two plates as Federico sat beside Perdita.

"Your home is very nice," she remarked, flinching slightly when the boy's hand found hers beneath the table.

"A lot different than I imagine yours to be, eh? Where is that, by the way?"

Perdita smiled coyly. "It is not important."

"Yes it is," Federico refuted, leaning closer. "I want to know everything about you, starting with your name."

Her pale blue eyes held a surprising amount of strength; she didn’t falter beneath his intense gaze. "As I told you previously, I am Perdita."

"For the love of Christ…" Ezio groaned from the other room, "Just tell him so he’ll stop asking!"

Annetta returned, quickly arranging two settings complete with a candle and bottle of grappa. As they ate in utter silence Federico took notice of Perdita's perfect table manners. She put the napkin on her lap, she didn't slouch, she didn't slurp, and she knew how to twirl pasta in a spoon. When they finished she put her fork upside-down on the plate and refolded the napkin. All of these habits informed him that Perdita was not some unfortunate girl making a living at the bordello. She was too proper.

They adjourned to the parlor for dessert. Perdita seemed to be relaxing– she laughed at Ezio's stories and allowed Federico to feed her crostata, which she found delicious. It was quite late when the front door slammed, causing all three youths to jump in their seats. "Annetta!" Giovanni shouted, "I need wine!"

"Father!" Federico appeared before him almost instantly. "We need to have a talk."

"About what, my son?" the man inquired while hanging up his coat. Federico followed him into the kitchen.

"During my deliveries today I stopped by Duke Lorenzo's palazzo… and I saw someone rather interesting go inside."

"Oh? Who was it?" Giovanni poured himself a large glass of red wine and gulped it down without savoring it at all.

"I was hoping  _you_  could tell me. He was a foreigner."

The patriarch laughed. "I cannot tell you who might be visiting the Duke when I know not what he looks like."

Federico sighed at how cheeky his father sounded. “It was a man with red hair and a thin face. He had blue eyes and wore a darker blue tunic beneath a gold breastplate. He came with many knights and his carriage was drawn by large black horses.”

Giovanni pondered the description, honestly trying to put a name to an imagined face. "I am sorry, Federico. I can't say I know to whom it is you're referring."

His eldest son grunted in frustration and spun on his heel to fetch Perdita for an introduction. The girl in the red dress stood near the fire, warming her exposed limbs. Just as she smiled at Federico a hard knock came at the door. Scowling, Giovanni opened it to greet a pair of armored soldiers and a Florentine guard officer.

They wasted no time with formalities. "We are looking for a girl who we know to frequent this area. By the order of Duke Lorenzo we are authorized to search your home for any evidence that will lead to her detainment."

Giovanni blinked at the outlandish claim before laughing in their faces. "The only authority one may assert over this household belongs to  _me_ ," he brazenly replied, "and what makes you believe I would be harboring some street urchin?"

The guard faltered, glancing past the Auditore patriarch. His progeny stood before a fireplace with their arms folded and a nearby maid nervously wrung her hands, but he did not spy a girl matching the description he was given. "I apologize for the inconvenience, signore." With that the officer indicated for the armored men to leave, but Giovanni held out his arm.

"What is the name of the girl you seek? I'll inform you if I learn of her whereabouts."

"Her name is Roxana Hunedora."

Glass shattered and Giovanni turned toward his sons with a cocked eyebrow. Ezio knelt to clean up the remains of a wine cup while Annetta stood with a hand over her mouth. "All right then," he partially smiled. "Good luck, gentlemen." He closed the door and slowly approached the figure seated on the sofa. "Federico, I believe you have not introduced your guest."

Federico himself stared at the girl in mild shock. Like a statue she remained fixated on the flickering fire, oblivious that Ezio picked up the shards of the cup that had fallen from her limp fingers. "Perdita?" he tried.

"Those men were looking for  _you_ , weren't they?" Giovanni said as he moved to stand in front of her. The girl shot him a glance full of fear and defiance, the kind a trapped animal gives a hunter. "Who are you?"

* * *

Encircled by three strong Auditore men, one of whom blockaded the door, the girl in the red dress felt her heart attempting to escape her chest. If she told them who she really was they would turn her in, sending her on a downward spiral from which there would be no escape. Not even Federico could coax an answer from Perdita. He stood with one hand on the back of his father's chair, looking at her through steeled eyes. Despite their intimidating demeanor the girl hadn't uttered a word.

"Roxana Hunedora," Giovanni said, repeating the moniker the officer had given. "Is that not your name?"

She took a deep, resigned breath. "No… it is Ruxandra Narcisa Hunyadi. I come from Transylvania."

"What are you doing here?" the patriarch pressed.

"War has been ravaging my homeland for the past nine years. From there I went to Constantinople, then I came here. This place is free of starvation and bloodshed."

Federico leaned over the desk. "Roxana…" He couldn't pronounce the name the way she had. "Do you know why the guards are searching for you?"

"Yes. Duke Lorenzo has ordered them to find me per the request of my uncle, Matthias, who met with him earlier this day."

“Are you afraid of your uncle?” Giovanni asked. Ruxandra nodded. “How do you think he knew where to find you?”

"I cannot say, but he is resourceful. I have not exactly remained undercover, working for a bordello…” She knotted her fingers. “He seeks something I cannot give. If I return to the bordello someone will turn me in, and I will be…” She shuddered at the notion, whatever it was.

“You can stay with us,” Federico declared. "Can't she, Father? If she goes back to La Rosa Colta, those soldiers will take her into custody."

Giovanni pondered the plea. His intuition told him that this Matthias character was a piece of the plot his order had only recently discovered; if Matthias was in the city that meant things were progressing quickly. Having Ruxandra on their side would likely help them solve the puzzle much quicker. He reasoned she feared her uncle because he wanted to physically harm her, which could mean she held information she wasn’t supposed to. That meant she needed to stay safe– his order had to protect her.

Rubbing his temples wearily, Giovanni dismissed the three youths as the clock struck midnight. Claudia and Maria returned from the theater shortly after, and once good-nights were exchanged the boys retreated to their rooms. "Remember that if I can hear you, so can Mother and Father," Ezio uttered.

Federico had no idea what that was supposed to mean. He opened his door, saw Ruxandra seated on the edge of his bed, and scurried inside. "Roxana, you're supposed to be in the guest bedroom!"

"I thought this was it," she returned. "It is very well made-up."

The boy groaned before realizing this could be a blessing in disguise. "Well, I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor, but it is  _my_  room…" The girl narrowed her eyes a little. "We'll just have to share the bed," he said in mock resignation.

"Very well. There can be pillows between us."

Federico's instant disappointment solicited a laugh, a rather spritely sound. Ruxandra contorted her arms to remove her corset before stepping out of the skirt, revealing a short chemise with little ribbon bows. She felt the boy's heated gaze disappear once she settled beneath the comforter. "Are you coming to bed?" she inquired, lacing her tone with just enough intrigue to make him spring into action. Federico hurriedly shed his clothes down to his trousers where he faltered.

"I… usually sleep without any restrictions."

"I am not going to be  _looking_ , if that is what concerns you," Ruxandra snarked.

Federico cautiously undressed all the way and lifted the covers. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It is _your_ bed," the girl repeated, "and sleeping while astride a horse is uncomfortable. Sleeping in a vardo with six young children is uncomfortable. Sleeping beside a naked man is… tolerable. I am not worried about you." He positioned one of the down pillows against her back and moved around a bit to get comfy.

"Let me know if you start to worry." She mumbled something incoherent, then everything fell silent for a long while. Federico could hear his brother snoring in the next room and rolled his eyes at the implication that  _he_  was the noisy one. He realized that if not for Ezio's meddling Ruxandra would most likely be in custody right now instead of safe and warm. He'd have to thank his blithe sibling at some point tomorrow.

He relaxed a little more, but not fully; it felt odd to be naked in the same bed as Ruxandra. She was so close yet far away because of the pillow wall, and self-consciousness lingered in Federico's mind. He should feel proud to be near her in all his nude glory; he certainly wouldn't object if she wanted to touch him. He knew she wouldn't but that didn't stop him from thinking about it. Maybe he groaned because he suddenly felt fingertips on his arm, jolting him from slumber, and Ruxandra spoke softly. "Are you all right?"

"I's just dreaming," Federico mumbled. "Sorry."

"You said my name. You were breathless."

Well that was embarrassing. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was not asleep yet." Silence. "What were we doing in your dream?"

She knew, of course she knew. He took a shaky breath. "Something you don’t seem interested in. Something I would need your permission for."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to hurt you." It was an honest revelation:  _'I want to help her. I want to save her.'_

"I do not believe you are the type of person who can hurt me, Federico Auditore." Her fingertips slid down his arm to his hand, danced in his palm before meshing with his own fingers. "You have strong hands. You are a strong man. Strong men are not slaves to their primeval desires.”

He winced at the word. Of course she knew how much he wanted her. He practically exuded lust, and what did she think he brought her here for? He was just supposed to use her to satisfy an urge. An hour ago the only thought in his brain was ravaging her body, but now he wanted nothing more than to protect her, be the hero she deserved. That sense of duty didn't completely nullify the former feeling, though.

"Federico?"

"Yes?"

"You can kiss me if you like."

Maybe he turned too eagerly, maybe he threw the pillow too forcefully. Ruxandra giggled as his face came within inches of hers. His warm chest pressed down upon her and his fingers snaked through her cornsilk hair. Federico hovered, savoring the prelude, inhaling scents of the grappa she'd drank and some other perfume, something sweet and floral. He reveled in the headiness caused by anticipation, by intimacy. It didn't matter if this was Ruxandra’s first kiss; this was her first time kissing  _him_ , a unique experience. He'd make an impression. Hopefully he'd leave her with the desire for more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

Federico focused on the moment, drawing it out even longer. He noted her racing pulse and the way she arched into him, hands clinging to his bare shoulders. She began to speak his name out of impatience, but only the F passed her lips before he completely stole her breath away.

* * *

I woke up with my mouth agape like a fish. I could feel my skin buzzing and my lips tingling, and I wanted to shake my head to get rid of these feelings but it was stuck between the sensor bar. "Hey, calm down Dee, you're okay." That was Rebecca's voice. I turned toward her as she swiftly deactivated the machine. I really felt the need to stand up and move around but my arm was trapped in the connection tube-thing. "What did you see?" she asked in a soothing tone.

"My ancestor…" I panted, "and Desmond's… together. In bed."

Shaun laughed a little. " _Again?_   What is it with your bloodlines?"

"They weren't having sex, just making out." Right as I said that I realized how poofy my lips were, as if  _I'd_  been the one kissing Federico Auditore. I rubbed them with the back of my hand a few times– they were kind of dry. Did the Assassins have lip balm? And I was so thirsty– where was the water? After voicing these questions Shaun and Rebecca stared at me. "What? I'm really hungry, okay?" And kind of aroused, but they didn't need to know that.

Rebecca half-smiled. "Dee, you're forgetting something important. You just remembered everything you saw in Baby."

I paused, awestruck. She was right! I remembered absolutely  _everything!_  "And I'm not speaking Romanian!" I added gleefully.

"Your ancestor is Romanian?" Desmond inquired, cheeseburger in hand.

I nodded. "Her name is Ruxandra Narcisa Hunyadi. She went to Florence because there was a war in Transylvania or something." I waved it off as unimportant, wondering where to get one of those burgers. I knew I hadn't seen a McDonald's on the way into Monteriggioni.

"The Hunyadi were Hungarian nobles," Shaun expounded, “but I've never heard of this Ruxandra. Did she mention anything else about her family?"

I thought for a moment. "Her uncle’s name is Matthias.”

He appeared a bit stunned. "That must mean your ancestor is the daughter of Laszlo Hunyadi… he must have had a baby before he died. It’s Matthias  _Corvinus_ , by the way.”

"Died?" I repeated. "My ancestor’s father is dead? That's awful!"

Shaun nodded. "Indeed. He was beheaded by the king of Hungary at the time, Ladislaus the Fifth. It was believed that Laszlo murdered Ulrich of Celje after inviting him and the king to one of his castles, but no proof was ever found that Laszlo did it himself." Smiling ruefully, he continued. "Ladislaus then pardoned Hunyadi and made him captain-general of the entire kingdom. So Laszlo, completely trusting of the king, goes with him to Obuda. But when he gets there he’s taken into custody and charged with treason for trying to kill the king, and there was no judge or jury of peers. So off went his head."

The silence was profound. "That is a fucking terrible story," Desmond stated while Rebecca and I remained positively horrified. "Why would you tell us that?"

Shaun shrugged, spreading his hands wide. "That's what happened in history and that's who Dee is related to. Erzsebet, Laszlo's mother, lived in Transylvania as a devout Catholic. I bet after he died his wife took her baby there."

It was one thing to hear the history from Shaun's mouth and another to actually live through it in the Animus. It was pretty depressing to know that my ancestor, Ruxandra, only had two immediate family members when Ezio had five of them  _and_  a nice house in addition to being rich. "So is this Matthias guy important or something?” I asked.

Shaun pushed his glasses up his nose and folded his arms in the snootiest way possible. "I'm not going to tell you," he replied. "You'll just have to wait and find out."

Desmond downed the last of his burger and smiled at me. "If I find out first, I'll tell you."

I smiled back. "Thanks. I'm glad someone's on my side."


	5. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellissima: beautiful

**Clandestine**

A plain cheeseburger never tasted so good. It turned out that in addition to having all the future-tech, the Assassins had decent living conditions too. There were nice cots to sleep on, a couple propane stoves for cooking, and even a shower that ran off recycled water, which I eyed with interest. "How long have you been down here, in this cavern?" I inquired of Rebecca, who seemed to enjoy answering my questions.

"About two weeks," she answered. "We had a base much closer to Abstergo's lab but they found it and we had to make a quick getaway."

Some code I had no hope of discerning filled her computer monitor. "How do you get supplies? Wouldn't the Templars catch on, follow the trail?"

Rebecca smiled slyly. "You'd be surprised by our network, Dee. I think you assume our organization hides underground while cackling maniacally.”

"Well, judging by  _this_  example, my assumptions are correct!" We shared a laugh, then a yawn escaped and it dawned on me that I’d been awake since Johnathan broke me out of my cell. How long ago was that? I glanced around but didn't see a clock anywhere. "Rebecca, how long was I in the Animus?"

She looked thoughtful. "About four hours, I think. Maybe a little more. When you're in the mind of your ancestor time seems to pass by at the same rate as here. You eat, sleep, and do everything you actually would, but the event rate of the past is accelerated because you technically already lived it. You can see several days in the past, years even, and only spend a few hours with Baby."

"Oh, I get it…" I yawned deeply. "Where can I lie down and sleep for a few days?"

"Choose a cot, any cot," the Englishman offered. "They've hardly been used– we work like that battery rabbit fellow."

I nodded my thanks, shuffling over to the canvas beds. My feet were leaden, the cheeseburger weighing me down. I was asleep as soon as I hit the fabric. I didn't know what time it was when I woke up, but as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting I noticed someone seated before me. "Who's that?" I mumbled, dragging a hand across my face. The person came into focus just as he provided his name.

"It's Desmond.” He flashed a half-smile.

I sat up with a groan and regarded him suspiciously. "Were you watching me sleep or something?"

"Oh no, of course not. I was debating waking you up to talk but Rebecca told me you really needed the sleep."

"Did you put this blanket on me?" His sheepish grin and slight blush were all the answer I needed. "Thanks… it's pretty chilly down here." With that I stood up and instantly noticed how sore my back was. The cot was no substitute for my pillow-top mattress back home.

Home…

I thought about it during my stretching routine. Time seemed so distorted; how long had I really been gone from home? Was there a pile of mail against my door? Were there tons of messages on my answering machine? I'm sure the dance studio wondered where the heck I was. Before heading to the renaissance faire I had looked into adopting a cat. What if someone else claimed the cute calico?

"You okay?" I instantly fixated Desmond with a glare; he was taken aback but quickly recovered. "I know what you're thinking—"

"No you don't. You have no idea."

"You're looking for someone to blame for all this, for being in this strange place with strange people. I would say blame Abstergo, but the truth is you wouldn't be here if not for me, so…" Desmond spread his arms, inviting all the anger I could muster.

As tempting as it was I couldn't bring myself to yell at him, unload my rage upon him. We were in the same boat. I closed my eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. "That's not fair, Desmond," I said quietly. "You don't get to absorb  _my_  frustration without being able to release your own."

He slid his hands into his hoodie pocket. "I do, by running around outside. I just thought that most women need to scream and shout once in a while."

I made a face and waved off the notion, jogging over to Shaun's computer. "I express my emotions a bit differently."

Belly dancing should always tell a story. It may be as simple as "I'm feeling sexy today, bask in my glory" or a profound journey expressed upon a musical canvas. Back home I teach two styles– American Tribal and Oryantal Dansi, or Turkish belly dance. Recently I got into classical Persian dance and music, which is very evocative and meaningful. There's actually no "belly" involved in that style, just footwork and arm movements. After searching YouTube for my song I closed my eyes and let the opening notes wash over me.

Once you let go of self-consciousness it really is easy to dance like no one's watching even though you might be facing a crowd of thousands. My audience consisted of just three people but I wasn't dancing for them right now, just myself. Let the music infuse my body, move my limbs however it willed, like a puppet on a string. Maintain enough spatial awareness to not trip over anything. Despite still being dressed in Abstergo's plain white clothing instead of a stunning traditional ensemble, Shaun, Rebecca and Desmond were regarding me in awe when I opened my eyes as the song ended.

"That was amazing, Dee," Shaun breathed. "I've never seen anything so… sensuous!"

“Thanks,” I grinned, mussing my hair. I noted that it felt oily and stringy. “That wasn't really a sexy dance, though.”

“Well  _I_  thought it was,” he returned. He glanced down and bit his lip, turning to one side. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to, uh… do something upstairs.”

He scurried away while Rebecca stifled a snort. When I gave her a confused look she pantomimed a lewd motion and I blushed profusely, Desmond barking a laugh. "I guess some people really appreciate the way you express yourself," he said.

* * *

"Federico…" The boy instantly awoke to the singsong voice of his mother. "I _know_ you are not in bed with that girl your father allowed to stay here last night." Groggily he rolled over, hoping to see a splash of golden hair on the other pillow, but that half of the bed was completely vacant. A disappointing fact, but one he wouldn't get in trouble for.

"See for yourself, Mother," he said through a yawn, stretching to reach all four corners of the mattress. His door opened and Maria surveyed the room, humming satisfactorily. Federico planted his feet on the wooden floor, stretched some more, then trudged over to his armoire to decide on the day’s outfit. _‘I wonder what happened to Roxana.’_ Surely he hadn't just dreamt that she fell asleep in his bed, and their sweet kisses had definitely been real… right? Federico washed his face before venturing downstairs.

"There you are, fratello," Ezio said from the kitchen. "Father wishes to speak with us."

"Good, maybe he discovered some things about that Matthias fellow."

Once in his office, Giovanni made his sons lock the door and close the curtains. He sat down at the desk and laced his fingers beneath his chin. The brothers knew the tense silence was building up to something important so they said nothing, standing with hands clasped behind their backs. "Federico, Ezio…" he began, "do you know what it is I do for a living?"

"You are a banker, Father," Ezio provided. His brother knew it was not so simple an answer and held his tongue.

"So it would seem," Giovanni replied. "I must admit I have deceived you two. Although I call this my home and conduct a legitimate business out of it, my true allegiance lies with a secret order that has been trying to maintain peace in this city and across the globe. But with the arrival of the man you saw yesterday," he nodded to Federico, "that peace has been compromised." The siblings glanced at each other, unsure of what he was telling them. "The man currently residing in Palazzo Medici is none other than Matthias Corvinus, King of the Hungarian Empire. He came to Firenze to find Roxana, his niece, whom he believes will lead him to an old family heirloom that she received before fleeing to Constantinopoli."

Federico gasped in disbelief. Ruxandra was Hungarian nobility?! "Where is she? Every guard in the city will be searching for her!"

A slight giggle emanated from the shadows behind Giovanni, then a black-cloaked figure emerged. The hood drew back to reveal Ruxandra's mischievous grin. "I am not as foolish as you believe, Federico Auditore." He relaxed as Ezio shook his head.

"So what do we do, Father? If someone from La Rosa Colta tells the guards I came to get her last night and that she hasn’t returned, they’ll assume she’s still here with us. The clear solution is to send her back to her homeland."

Giovanni held up his hand. "Do not be so hasty, my son. It has been determined by my order that Roxana will indeed return to her nation of Transylvania, but she will need trusted guards to escort her. And someone will need to return to Firenze with the artifact in question so it can be protected by our order.”

Federico already knew what his father would ask of them but Ezio wasn't as astute. "What are you saying, Father? What is this 'order' that you work for?" His expression only grew more befuddled when Giovanni rose from his chair and maneuvered something on the hearth that revealed a small alcove. Inside was a chest that he rummaged through; the brothers caught a glimpse of white before he closed the lid and faced them once more with an object in hand.

"This is our instrument of justice," the man said with a note of fondness. "I received it upon my initiation into the Order, but that was many years ago and it has broken since then. Your task is to have this one repaired. It will be your tool for defending Roxana as you accompany her to her homeland."

Federico accepted the mission in stoic silence while Ezio stood agog. "Father!" he erupted after a moment, "What are you… How can you… How do we…?!"

"Please, Ezio…" Ruxandra said softly as she approached him. "I need your aid, yours and Federico's. My uncle will have factions searching for me from here to Transylvania and I must return to my mother and grandmother in one piece." Pure blue eyes stared at him imploringly, making Ezio hold his breath. "Will you help me?"

The entire office was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. "Very well," he sighed in acquiescence. "I will go."

Giovanni clapped his hands. "Fantastic! Now, take this weapon to the artist whom your mother is well acquainted with. You will receive instruction once there. Go quickly, avoid the guards, and keep Roxana in your sight at all times."

It only took about a minute for the brothers to shield themselves with burgundy cloaks before exiting Palazzo Auditore, Ruxandra secure between them. It was only another minute before Ezio sighed in frustration. "Where are we going?"

"To the workshop of Leonardo da' Vinci," Federico answered. "He is not only a great artist but an inventor as well. I’m certain he’ll be able to repair this weapon."

"How do you know so much about this Leonardo?"

Federico scoffed while shouldering past a group of people. "I’ve often conversed with him alongside our mother. You should consider spending more time with our family and less with Cristina."

"Mother and Claudia are not nearly as entertaining," Ezio muttered, and the trio pushed onward. The streets were unusually crowded; Federico felt like he was leading them through a maze of people. Eventually they arrived outside a modest building with a wide open door. Federico halted his allies just as two men hefted a large framed painting over the threshold.

"Careful with that!" someone called. Federico cautiously peered inside and spied the fair-haired artist shaking his head disapprovingly. He knocked twice on the frame to gain the man's attention. "Oh, Federico Auditore! I haven’t seen you in a few weeks. What brings you to my studio?"

"First, may we three enter?

"Yes, yes! Please come in!" Leonardo ushered the trio, closing the door behind them and clasping his hands expectantly. "How may I be of assistance?"

They removed their hoods and Leonardo gasped when his eyes fell upon Ruxandra. "Bellissima! Who is this gorgeous lady you bring?" He didn't wait for an answer and pushed right past Ezio to circle the girl, who held a nervous finger to her lips.

Federico smirked a little. "This is Roxana Hunedora. She came here from Transylvania one year ago, and now Ezio and I are escorting her home."

Leonardo trained his eyes on the younger Auditore. "I don't believe we’ve met– it is always your brother who comes with Madonna Maria." The two of them shook hands. Although a bit different, Leonardo was still a respectable gentleman. "Can I interest you in some wine? Bread and cheese perhaps? Sit, relax, look around! What can I do for you?" He started gathering strewn pieces of paper and arranging long rolls of canvas. "I apologize for the mess. My servants are picking up new paint and I haven’t had time to tidy up."

Federico chuckled. "It’s all right, Leonardo. We’ve actually come with some work for you, if you're interested…"

"Of course!" the man beamed. "What do you require?" At that Federico held out the bracer and the broken blade that was supposed to attach to it. Leonardo made a sound of approval as he gently carried the contraption to his workbench. "These mechanics are fascinating," he murmured, "much more advanced than anything I’ve seen before. It is perhaps too complex… Are there any schematics of this device?"

Federico regretfully shook his head. "None that I know of."

"How unfortunate," Leonardo sighed, fondling the bracer. "Wait, what is this?" He produced a crumpled piece of paper that made his guests scurry over, and as he unfolded and smoothed it they breathed in awe. On the paper in age-worn ink was a blueprint of the weapon!

"Will this tell you how to fix it?" Ezio asked.

"I imagine so! But there’s a problem– this language is unlike any I know." He held a magnifying glass over the parchment, humming with interest. "Yet some of these markings resemble Phoenician… Give me just a moment!" He scurried over to a bookshelf and selected a worn leather tome. "Ah, as I thought. This page is encoded but I believe I can decipher it!" He glanced up with a smile. "Don't feel as if you need to waste time here. Carry on with your day!"

Ezio grinned sheepishly. "The thing is, Roxana is wanted by the city guard. We need to keep her out of sight—"

"And our father said we would receive further instruction once we got here," Federico finished. Ruxandra had busied herself by perusing all the fascinating sculptures and mechanical trinkets lying about. She assumed the pose of an unfinished clay statue, soliciting a chuckle.

Leonardo nodded slowly. "I see. I’ve never given the guards a reason to wonder if I might be harboring a fugitive, so she should be safe here. What did you say her name was?"

"Ruxandra," the girl said from across the room. "Ruxandra Narcisa Hunyadi."

"It sounds prettier when you say it." The artist's smooth reply earned a blush.

The brothers sighed, knowing they would be bored out of their minds.  _'I wonder if I can risk seeing Cristina,'_ Ezio mused, nudging Federico to get his attention. "I cannot stay cooped up in here. I'm going outside for a bit." Leonardo already seemed to be off in his own world.

"Very well fratellino, but be careful. You know who to watch out for." Ezio waved off the warning as he secured the cloak about his shoulders and left. It became completely silent except for the scratching of Leonardo's pen, and watching Ruxandra wander around aimlessly gave Federico some inspiration.

It didn't take long for him to procure a mostly-blank journal and a stick of charcoal before getting situated on the divano. He was no great artist like Leonardo but he had enough skill to sketch a decent portrait of the girl. Ruxandra drifted listlessly around the shop, running her thin fingers over everything that wasn't out of reach.  _'She is a rose of Firenze,'_  Federico thought. She looked every inch a sprite, from her petite frame to her delicate facial features, so he drew her with a set of gossamer wings. They were long and tapered to enhance her slender build. Just as he finished blowing away some dust Leonardo cleared his throat, startling the younger man.

"I believe I’ve finished. Come, try it on." Leonardo affixed the bracer to Federico’s forearm, making some last minute adjustments before standing back to admire the contraption.

"How does it work?" Federico questioned, examining the sheath beneath the worn leather. The metal was embossed with many symbols he didn’t recognize, but an odd sensation, a feeling of empowerment, washed over him.

"Flex the loop around your little finger."

When Federico did so he jumped, for the space in front of his hand was stabbed by the very sharp blade hidden within the sheath. It was least eight inches, plenty long enough to deliver a fatal blow. "Magnificent…" the young man breathed. "You are truly a genius, Leonardo."

Just then a resounding knock startled the three of them. With a furrowed brow Leonardo disappeared into the storage room that exited to an alley, his exclamation quickly summoning Federico. "These must be for you," the artist remarked of the weaponry situated on the step.

It was good timing on Ezio's part to return just as his brother brought their supplies inside. He began sifting through the blades to find one he liked, but Federico was more interested in the note attached to a fine rapier.

_Federico and Ezio Auditore,_

_These weapons will ensure proper protection of Ruxandra. Bring them all if you like; you will most certainly find use for them along your journey. The world outside Firenze and beyond Venezia is dangerous and unforgiving, so you must learn to act accordingly. The device bestowed by your father will help you accomplish your goal; do not be afraid to use the Hidden Blade. Follow Ruxandra to Constantinople– there you will meet one of our allies and someone she trusts. Travel swiftly with an eye on your back. Do not trust the men of the cross._

_La Volpe_

"La Volpe?" Federico read aloud. "I wonder who that is."

"A friend of our father's, obviously," Ezio stated. He withdrew a keen long sword from its sheath and eyed the blade for balance. It matched his character well but Federico preferred the art of fencing, which his father had been teaching him for several years now. The thin rapier was perfect for penetrating weaknesses in enemy armor that less agile weapons had no hope of discerning.

Ruxandra picked up a small stiletto and stuck it in her bodice. "What are  _you_  going to do with that?" Ezio scoffed.

She eyed him with displeasure. "I traveled a long way on my own before and I did not make it without a dagger to fend off men who would have enslaved me. I have seen the world, you have not, so believe me when I say I know how to survive."

"Well then, it sounds like you don't even need us,” Ezio returned. "Since you’re so used to being on your own, what are we wasting time here for?" He made to leave, earning hard looks from the girl and his brother. "Come on, fratello! Let us return to our fine lifestyle." He already had one foot out the door when Federico stopped him.

"Wait, Ezio, remember what Father said. If you didn't want any part of this task then you should have said so."

He turned from the doorway with a wicked sneer on his face. "I was just making sure you really wanted my help!" He smirked at the girl.

"Firlama," Ruxandra muttered, then said in a louder tone, "Are you prepared to leave Florence? I must first go to Constantinople to gather some personal things. You have never been there, I am certain, but it is a lovely city." Leonardo looked intrigued.

Ezio snorted at the fact that she was making their decisions all of a sudden. "How do you propose we get there? We don't have horses."

"We can steal some," Federico declared. "It’ll take much too long to travel on foot. We can ride to Venezia, buy provisions, then head for Constantinopoli." He glanced at Ruxandra for confirmation and was elated when she nodded.

* * *

It was Ezio's task to procure a pair of horses without the guards noticing. He first created a small distraction in the street by pretending to be a beggar and bumping into a haughty nobleman. Their argument escalated to shouts that attracted the guards’ attention, and when they threatened to throw the man in jail for a night Ezio slunk away to the unguarded stables. He quickly led the horses to the northeast gate. "Here we are," he whispered, "the finest steeds in Firenze." Federico hoisted himself onto the animal’s bare back before pulling Ruxandra up to sit behind him. Ezio muttered how uncomfortable the ride would be without saddles, but then he spurred his mount forward. "To Venezia!" he nearly shouted.

They traveled swiftly beneath the blanket of night, crossing the countryside that would have been very beautiful during the day but seemed rather ominous in darkness. At every bend in the road Federico swore there would be someone waiting for them, someone they would have to use their swords to fend off, but no one appeared. The horses galloped hard until reaching the decrepit city of Forli, then they slowed to jogs, then walks.

It was very quiet in the blush of dawn. The water city of Venice soon loomed before them like a great labyrinth, made all the more intimidating by the number of ships in the harbor. "How can it be so busy so early?" Ezio yawned, trotting his horse toward the gate. There were a few armored men stationed there but they looked tired. The travelers dismounted, approaching cautiously.

"Welcome to Venezia," greeted first guard, a portly fellow. "May I see your passes?"

"Passes?" the brothers repeated, sharing a look. "We don’t have passes."

The guard's kind expression abruptly melted away. "Oh, then we have a problem. Or rather  _you_  have a problem because no one is allowed to enter the city without a pass."

"Of all the pointless things…" Ezio grumbled, walking away with his hands on his hips. The guard tried to peer beneath their dark hoods so Ruxandra removed hers for his approval. "Please Messer, is there nothing else that would let us in?" She reached into the pouch at her side Federico had wondered about and withdrew a glittering ruby brooch. The fat man's eyes bulged in their sockets.

"You would give me this… just to enter the city?" he quavered.

"Si, Messer," Ruxandra smiled. That was all the charm she needed. The guard snatched it from her hand, glancing over to make sure his colleague hadn't seen, and waved the trio in. There were few people milling about as they left their horses at a stable.

They huddled together in a deserted back alley. "All right, we made it," Federico spoke quietly. "We’ll need medical supplies in case of an accident, and food and water of course…"

"I think we should change our clothes," Ezio suggested. "I've been wearing this shirt for three days now." His eyes shifted to the girl. "And you stand out too much in that red dress."

"I will find us new garments," Ruxandra said. "We should meet back here when everything is gotten."

Federico nodded. "Then I’ll gather enough food for the journey. How long will it take, do you think?"

"About a month," the girl said. "It took me that long to go from Constantinople to Florence by means of a caravan, but it will be faster with just the three of us." She peered around the edge of the brick building and narrowed her eyes at a guard patrol. "We should remain unseen in this city in case my uncle has spies here."

"Don't you mean the King of Hungary?" Ezio said snidely. "Doesn't that make you a royal lady of Hungary?”

"It would if I lived there, but my home is in Transylvania. The Three Nations still fight for their independence from the King and the Ottomans, and they will die fighting before surrendering to tyranny. My mother and grandmother are protected by the mountains and we shall be too once we are there. So let us not waste any more time."

With that she darted into the street, effortlessly blending with the growing crowd. "Wait!" Federico called out, but he was too late. With a sigh he said to his brother, "Meet me back here in an hour. No more."

"Aye fratello." They put their hoods on and left the alley, heading in separate directions to locate an apothecary and the market.

After some time Federico returned to their meeting place with several loaves of bread, some nuts, and dried fruits. It was a good thing he stayed hidden in his cloak because the Venetians had a knack for talking tourists into spending their money on overpriced souvenirs and gondola rides, and he didn’t need such distractions. He glanced at the sun; it had to be about nine in the morning now so it would be interesting to see how much ground they could cover in one day. Ezio arrived, showing off the bag full of bandages and antiseptic he’d received a good deal on because the doctor's daughter thought he was attractive. "Only you," his brother chuckled. Finally Ruxandra returned. Federico frowned when he noticed she was carrying absolutely nothing and didn't even have her hood up. "Did you buy new clothing?"

She smiled mischievously. “Of course I did.”

"Where is it?"

She indicated the boys to follow her. Through the mass of people they went, encroaching upon the thriving harbor. There was one ship that was styled differently than the rest and flew an Ottoman flag, but it was onto this ship the girl marched. The brothers gave her confused looks at the base of the gangplank. "We shall sail our way to Constantinople!" Ruxandra jovially announced. "There is a room prepared for us!"

Ezio could only gape. "How did you manage such a feat? The cost to travel on a vessel such as this would be immense!"

"A lady never reveals her secrets. Now come aboard!" She spun away and the brothers simply shrugged before happily arriving on deck. The ship would reduce their travel time by half, but Federico couldn't help but wonder if there were delicate politics involved in such an arrangement. Ruxandra must have traded her entire pouch of baubles for the captain to allow three complete strangers on his boat. Although Venice had tentative trade agreements with the Ottomans things could turn bitter in the blink of an eye.

The captain was indeed an Ottoman Turk, but his crew was comprised of men from all over the land– Venice, Ancona, Albania, Greece, even Crimea near the Azov Sea. It was a small blessing that Ruxandra was fluent in Turkish and could converse with most of the crew. Their room was spacious and featured a set of bunk beds, a larger bed, two armoires, and several storage trunks. Federico hummed approvingly when he spied all-new garments laid out across the mattress.

"I tried to find things that would help you blend in," Ruxandra explained. "Light cotton trousers, linen shirts, brocade vests and boots… These clothes will help you hide in plain sight. When you and Ezio have finished dressing I will show you how to wrap a turban."

Federico posed suggestively. “I could use your help with each of these garments.”

The girl made a face that said she was not amused. "Our only focus should be on retrieving the artifact my uncle seeks."

"So you know what it is, then?"

"But of course," she answered. "I am the one that hid it from him."


	6. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mia cara: my dear  
> Mia columba: my dove  
> Salak: silly person  
> Suphanallah: good god!

**Trust**

Ruxandra folded her arms and looked down at Federico with a hint of smugness on her face. It wasn't like him to let a woman get under his skin but he hated the way she dangled secrets before him. "What are you hiding from us?” he asked. “My family agreed to help you so you had better not be taking advantage of our generosity. If your actions get any of them hurt…” He shook his head. “I won’t allow you to get away with it.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. "You do not know anything about me, Federico Auditore, yet you called me the most ravishing lady of Florence. You found out where I lived, invited me into your home and fed me. We even slept in the same bed.” The boy was unable to hold her gaze and looked at the floor as embarrassment warmed his cheeks. “Since I am a complete stranger, why did you agree to travel with me so far from your home?”

Because she was beautiful and Federico couldn't help himself. She was a damsel in distress and he wanted to be her knight in shining armor. But he was beginning to think she didn't really need one.

"I am who I say I am," she calmly went on. "I am Ruxandra Narcisa Hunyadi, born in Transylvania to Laszlo Hunyadi and Maria Garai. We live with my Grandmother Erszebet.”

The man's name made him glance up. "Why haven’t you mentioned your father until now?”

Her visage steeled. "He is dead, murdered by my uncle’s predecessor Ladislaus. My mother loved him very much even though their marriage was arranged. She told me many stories about Father, how he lived for his country and his family and did everything in his power to protect us." A spark of jealousy flashed in her eyes as she stared at Federico. "But he was murdered by one he trusted, betrayed by the king he pledged his loyalty to. I have no doubt it was done so my uncle could claim the throne.”

“I am sorry for your loss,” Federico somberly replied. "I don’t know what it feels like to lose family. I cannot imagine how empty my life would become.” Ruxandra sat down beside him and Federico placed a gentle hand atop hers. “Does your uncle fear vengeance from you or your matrons? Is that why he tracked you to Firenze, to do away with you?”

She shook her head. “He is after a ring, an heirloom my mother gave me on the day the Three Nations took up arms against the king. But it is not a normal ring… there is a spirit inside, something that whispered evil things to me and showed me horrors I have still not forgotten. I could not bear the weight of my father’s ring nor handle the fighting. What choice did I have but to run away?”

Federico meshed their fingers together. "Perhaps Matthias knows something about that spirit.”

"Yes, and I fear what it is." Ruxandra turned to look him in the eye. "When we get to Hunyadi Castle you and Ezio must swiftly return the ring to your father. The people he works with will know what to do with it."

Federico's smile was a mixture of appreciation and guile as he traced her jawline with one finger, then brushed her lips. “Yet another thing you keep from me. We’ve made such progress that it would be a shame if you didn’t tell me  _all_  your secrets.”

The girl pulled back as his face drew nearer, her brow furrowing. “This is not the time for kissing, Federico.”

"What are you talking about?" he refuted. "This is the perfect time! Ezio is drowning himself in wine, my mother isn’t going to walk in on us, and we have this charming little room all to ourselves. We'll be sharing it for a while, so why don't we get to know one another?” He leaned in again but Ruxandra went the opposite direction.

“I said no! You already got your kiss!”

Even though her hands were on his chest she wasn’t really pushing him away. Ruxandra frowned at him but a smile played at her lips, leading Federico to assume she was just being coy. “And it was a good kiss, wasn’t it? Please allow me to bestow another upon you, mia cara, as many as you like…”

“I don’t want any!” she returned. Federico was atop her now as they both lay on the bed, an inch of space between their chests as she held him up. The boy laced his fingers behind his head and smirked.

“You are stronger than you appear, mia columba, but when you drop me my lips are going to fall right upon yours. I’m content to wait.”

“Then get used to that position, Federico Auditore,” Ruxandra panted. “Your lips will not be coming anywhere near mine.” He raised an eyebrow to say “we’ll see”, and after a silent minute Ruxandra felt her arms begin to shake. She closed her eyes and willed her muscles to endure, to prove she could beat Federico at this silly game.

Ezio’s arrival prevented her from losing. He barged through the door with a full bottle of wine in hand, his chest bare beneath the brocade vest. "Ey you two, whaddya doin' in here al-lone?"

Federico regretfully stood up and faced his brother with a scowl. “Fratellino, you’re completely drunk.” Ruxandra skirted them without a word, making her way across the deck.

Ezio beamed pridefully. "Righchoo are! This vintage is magnifico! Have some!" He thrust the bottle into his brother's chest where it was yanked from his grip. Not deterred in the least, Ezio stepped back and spread his arms. "Whaddya think? D' I look like an Ottoman?"

"No, you look like an idiot," Federico returned. "You're not getting this wine back."

"Why na, fra'? I was jus' havin' some fun b'fore we get to Con-stan-ti-no-po-li." He had to concentrate very hard to pronounce their destination. "Gimme the vino an' I'll leave ya ‘lone with Roxana." Federico just about smacked the cocky grin off his face. Instead he exited the room and tossed the bottle into the waves, earning a loud protest. "Why'd ya do that?!" Ezio shouted.

"Because you're making a fool of yourself. We are guests on this vessel and we don't need to soil the image of our people. Have some common sense."

Ezio scoffed loudly, nearly spitting in Federico's face. " _Yer_  the one tryin'na undress Roxana.  _You_  have some common sense." His look of defiance was lessened by the way he wobbled precariously.

"Yes, I like her," Federico said, crossing his arms, "but that doesn't mean I'm going to bed her while we have an important task to focus on! Do you think Father's order would approve of putting our mission on hold so I could mess around with her? No! We must first acquire the ring her uncle seeks, then we can relax and celebrate. So go stick your head in cold water and then get some sleep."

Ezio looked prepared to fire off another retort, but he suddenly spun around to lean over the railing and emptied the contents of his stomach into the sea. There was a yellowish pallor on his face and he seemed ready to collapse, so Federico draped an arm over his shoulder and walked his brother back to their quarters. Unsurprisingly, Ruxandra had not returned. "Thanks for that…" he muttered contemptuously. "I guess we'll both go to bed early."

* * *

Federico achieved a sort of partial sleep due to the calm rocking motion of the ship and Ezio's obnoxious guttural snoring. A different noise woke him from slumber; he lay on the top bunk for some time trying to discern its components. Hoots and whistles rose from below deck along with drum beats, fiddles and other stringed melodies. Curiosity got the better of him and he threw on a thin cotton shirt and loose shalwar before slipping into the chilly night air. The sea breeze easily bit through his clothes, prompting him to descend to the galley as quickly as possible.

It was there from which the chorus of instruments sang out but it was on the stairs Federico stopped to spy on the festivities. He couldn’t help but smile while watching Ruxandra skip and spin across the tables that had been shoved together as a makeshift stage. After a few minutes he realized there were definitive steps to her dance, not just random movements, and it dawned on him that she no longer wore the red corset and dress. Ruxandra’s new outfit consisted of a white blouse with dagged sleeves, an embroidered orange bodice, a billowing violet skirt and a pink hip wrap. Various colored ribbons had been woven into her long braided hair and she wore a pale pink head scarf. With every step she jingled; Federico counted two necklaces, an anklet, and at least seven bracelets.

 _‘She’s a gypsy,’_  he realized.  _‘I’ve fallen in love with a brigand.’_  Ruxandra hadn’t stolen anything from him save his heart, but he’d never heard a story about gypsies being generous. His mother said they were like rats, infesting cities and moving on when people grew tired of them. They charmed victims with lively song and dance, magic tricks and unique handicrafts, distracting people with their colorful culture while robbing them blind. Perhaps Maria had recognized Ruxandra for what she was and only hoped to protect her son…

"How nice of you to join us, lad!" came a deep, booming voice. A pair of enormous hands plucked Federico off the stairs and deposited him upon the tables with Ruxandra. He glanced around in confusion since there was no music, but she just smiled back and grabbed both of his hands. Soft notes from a flute and viola filled the galley, then they began to dance.

Since he didn’t know what he was doing he followed the girl’s lead, eyes constantly flicking down to her feet. “You are quite good at this,” Ruxandra whispered when the boy spun her at a crescendo. “Have you never danced with a Romani before?”

“No, I haven’t,” Federico whispered back, “but I would love to learn the steps so I can be a better partner.”

The girl giggled. “There are no definitive steps, salak. You simply listen to the music.”

Federico nodded and didn’t speak again. He briefly closed his eyes to experience Ruxandra with his other senses: she felt so light on her feet, moving fluidly. Some citrus scent clung to her, perhaps grapefruit or lime, a tang that was strangely intoxicating. He heard air rushing through the differing fabrics of her clothes and caught chiming bells from the trinkets preceding her movements. He opened his eyes when the music stopped, the crew applauding their performance. Ruxandra gave him a slight curtsy and hopped off the table, receiving praise from everyone. After bidding the captain goodnight, a man with a dark, thick beard and equally dark eyes, she turned back toward Federico. “Are you coming to bed?”

Although she was being completely innocent, the boy’s heart skipped a beat. He just couldn’t help it– Ruxandra was so beautiful and her mysteriousness only made her more desirable. Federico wanted to know all about her, wanted to experience all  _of_  her… but he had to be a gentleman. As easy as it would be to succumb to his lust and seduce her, ravage her, he didn’t really want that. His intuition told him that her secrets were like a pearl. He didn’t want to pry her shell apart before she was ready to share them, so he would wait. Wait and hope.

A breath of the Mediterranean helped clear his head. He and Ruxandra walked arm in arm to their cabin and he held the door open for her. As soon as she stepped inside she wrinkled her nose. "Suphanallah, Ezio sounds and smells like a beast!"

"He had a bit too much to drink, which I’m certain I can thank the crew for." After removing his shirt and pants Federico climbed up to the top bunk. He didn’t feel at all tired, however.

"You do not want the big bed?" the girl questioned.

"You take it, I already fell asleep here once. And I need to keep an eye on Ezio in case he falls on the floor." He laced his fingers beneath his head and stared at the wooden ceiling.

It was silent for a moment. “Would you like to share it with me?”

Federico sighed irritably. "Don’t use that tone of voice on me.”

"What tone?"

"The one you used to attract men and send them racing to La Rosa Colta. You denied me a kiss earlier, so I’d rather not subject myself to another rejection. I know you’re just being coy.”

She scoffed lightly. “What if I changed my mind?”

"I highly doubt it.” Federico grumbled.

Ruxandra released a high-pitched, spritely titter. “Oh, Federico… You are frustrated because I did not instantly give in to your charms. I know you are used to receiving everything you ask for because of your family’s status and wealth, but I  _earned_  everything I have through hard work and perseverance. Perhaps if you had some humility I would be more open to your advances.”

“Humility?! I—” He clamped his mouth shut and growled, not wanting to wake up Ezio who was always cranky after getting drunk. “You’re making a lot of assumptions about me, Roxana,” he said instead. “You’d be surprised how many of them are inaccurate.”

She turned her back on him and rolled her eyes, removing pieces of her outfit as she spoke. “Perhaps I cannot judge  _every_  aspect of your life, but I know the only reason you agreed to help me is because you want to be rewarded with what lies between my legs.”

“I’m helping you because my father asked me to,” he curtly returned. “The reward I  _truly_  hope for is to receive knowledge of the society he belongs to… and to join them if I can.”

“What do you believe it is they do?” It sounded like she wanted to compare his notions to her own. Federico rolled over to look down at her but could hardly make out anything in the gloom. As if reading his mind, the girl felt around for a match and lit a candle on the dresser. “Come down so we can converse.”

Federico obeyed, waiting until she had nestled beneath the blankets to sit on the mattress. “I don’t know what they are called or who leads them, but I’m certain their duty is to help people.” Ruxandra motioned for him to continue. “My father believes that, like Ezio, I have no interest in his business, but that isn’t completely true. I grew interested once it became apparent he doesn’t limit his efforts to managing the finances of Firenze’s elite. I’ve heard him leave home in the middle of the night and seen fresh scars on his hands during breakfast. I know that he answers to men in Medici’s circle, men who have come to him under the guise of seeking his financial services. I believe there are people watching out for us like that La Volpe person who provided our weaponry. I have always wondered why Claudia has so few suitors– those she does acknowledge seem to have good intentions at heart.”

Ruxandra stared at the boy for a moment. “Your postulations are as good as mine, Federico. I know little of the allegiance your father is sworn to, but I believe my father upheld the same cause. They protect people. The only difference is that Laszlo died before he could protect _me_ from my uncle.” She suddenly buried half her face in the pillow, muffling her words. “I wish I had been strong enough to bear my father’s ring. My mother thought so, but I hardly gave it a chance. I ran away as soon as I could.”

A tear glistened on her cheek and Federico leaned over to brush it away. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for being afraid… you were only a child. If that was the only responsibility you ran from, I applaud you. There were many times when I did the same for much less significant reasons. War never came to  _my_  doorstep.”

Ruxandra shifted to peer up at him. “I am sorry for calling you spoiled.”

“You’re not wrong, though,” the boy chuckled. “Life  _has_  been easy for me, so much so that I regard the trials you’ve had to face like fairytales.” He leaned a little closer. “I do want to hear them, Roxana. Tell me your stories instead of letting them weigh you down. I wish you would trust me enough to let me ease your burdens.”

“Ease them… or distract me from them?”

“Whichever you prefer,” he answered, smiling.

* * *

Noon on the open sea was somewhat humbling. Federico stood near the bow where salt water sprayed his face each time the ship split a huge wave. Wind tossed his sepia hair and the air stung his eyes a little, but at least he had quelled the whirling thoughts concerning Ruxandra. "Aye, fratello…" Ezio appeared at his side. “How long was I out?”

“About sixteen hours,” Federico provided. "How do you feel?"

"Starving." With that he stumbled over to the stairs and for a moment Federico thought he would fall right down them, but Ezio clung to the wall like a spider. After emerging in the dimly lit galley he plunked down at a table that reeked of Muscat wine. The scent made his head spin and he groaned loudly.

A singsong voice punctured the haze. “Ezio?” Ruxandra leaned down to grin in his face. "It appears you need some bread and cheese.”

"Yes…" he mumbled weakly.

“And perhaps a glass of lemon water."

He managed to sit up and support his head with a sturdy elbow while Ruxandra prepared his lunch. After placing the tin plate before him, he groaned once more. "I am never drinking Ottoman wine again."

"That is unfortunate," Ruxandra laughed. "Where we are going in Istanbul there is excellent food and drink. I am certain you will enjoy it."

Ezio was sober enough to articulate through the bread. “How did you end up there in the first place?”

The girl sat down beside him, biting into a large apple. “When I was ten and the revolution began, I joined a Romani caravan that wanted to leave it all behind. They are like my second family– they were sometimes more of a family than my mother and grandmother. They taught me how to see beauty in all things, even people with harsh exteriors.”

“Do you think my brother has a harsh exterior? Is that why you won’t sleep with him?”

“Of course not!” Ruxandra exclaimed. “Federico is very handsome! But my religion states the only person I can give myself to is my husband.”

“Pfft. Do you honestly believe demons will crawl up from the ground to drag you to Hell if you decide to be intimate with someone? I never understood why people would want to live according to the rules set by a bunch of old men.”

“It is God’s rules we must live by, not man’s,” she said softly.

He rolled his eyes. “Well, God needs to lighten up. If he didn’t want people to have sex then he shouldn’t have made them attracted to one another.” Ezio downed the water, brushed the crumbs onto the floor and handed his plate to the washer before heading above deck.

Ruxandra sat in silence, considering his opinions until someone cleared their throat behind her. She spun around, breathing a sigh of relief. “Captain Emin. How long were you listening?”

“Long enough to say that you are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions. Why let words in an ancient book dictate the way you live your life? You should be free to do as you please unless your actions cause someone harm.”

“I fear they already have, Captain. I worry for the Auditore back in Florence. I worry my uncle has discovered their involvement with me. What if he has them killed? I could not bear to live with the knowledge that it was I who left Ezio and Federico with only each other.”

Emin shrugged and slapped his palm on the table. "I’m sure your story is far from ending, but if you feel like you are going down do so with a fight that people will remember forever!" He left the girl with a deep chortle and returned above deck.

Ruxandra held her head in her hands, unable to shake the feeling that awful things were happening back in Florence. She prayed that Giovanni could use his connections to keep his family safe and drive out the Hungarian knights if possible. Still, Matthias was a king. His resources were unlimited and he could do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t as if any of the Italian kingdoms were strong enough to stand against all of Hungary.

She easily recalled how the ruby ring had pulsed on her finger. Each beat sent horrible images through her mind, visions of a world that was no longer green or filled with happiness. Fires raged across the land leaving nothing but ash to be blown away by savage winds. Faces she recognized stared back with wide, lifeless eyes, their mouths screaming in silent agony. Ruxandra couldn’t let that world come to be. Those visions had compelled her to run far away from her homeland; the further she was from the ring the less likely she would be corrupted by it. She just didn’t have the mental fortitude to resist its lust for chaos and destruction. And neither did Matthias… but he didn’t _want_ to resist it.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hatun: honorific meaning "lady"  
> Dio mio: my god  
> Merhaba: hello  
> Memnun oldum: nice to meet you  
> El-Fatih: the Sultan  
> Iyi geceler: good night  
> Her sey icin tesekkur ederim: thank you for everything  
> Cevahir Bedestan: old name for the Grand Bazaar

**Reminiscence**

Ezio approached his brother, eying the rapier dangling from his hip. "When was the last time you actually used one of those, eh?"

"About a year ago, but I never forget what I learn. I bet you don't even know the proper stance for  _that_  sword."

"You doubt my skill, fratello?" Ezio strode into the middle of the deck, unsheathing the long blade with a flourish.

The boy with shorter hair laughed loudly. "I taught you everything you know, and I’ve barely showed you anything Father taught  _me_." He moved to stand before Ezio, drew his rapier, and assumed a defensive stance. "Show me what you've got, if anything at all!" Ezio lunged at his brother with a wide slash that was easily countered. Frowning a little, he tried a diagonal strike that Federico pivoted away from. "You're all over the place, fratellino. Face me head-on." Although he was remiss to take Federico’s advice, he advanced with a series of three quick taps against the thin rapier blade. "Good, but watch your feet." Federico returned the move and Ezio retreated without tripping over himself. He waited a moment before jabbing at his brother's knees. The long sword deflected it with a smooth arc. "You're a quick study!"

"What can I say?" Ezio shrugged. "You're not a terrible teacher, fra'." They continued practicing, their taunts giving way to a focused, serious silence.

Ruxandra passively watched them from the helm where Captain Emin commanded his crew. "How much longer until the capital?" she inquired.

"We will be there within the week, don’t you worry." He paused to stroke his beard. "What do you have waiting there?"

A fond smile turned her lips. "Istanbul was my home for almost a decade. When I first arrived there I wandered without purpose, dancing to earn money for food. A young noblewoman found me and invited me to become her handmaiden. I lived a fine life with her, becoming her friend instead.”

"Does this woman have a name?" the captain wondered.

"She is called Nasrin."

The man released an unexpected bout of laughter. "Are you fooling me?"

"Of course not," Ruxandra frowned. "What is so amusing?"

"The Sultan just married a woman named Nasrin– Nasrin Hatun she is called now! She’s expecting a child as well. It would be interesting if it were the same woman you know.”

Ruxandra nodded absently. "Time has passed me by so quickly. It has only been just over one year since I left Istanbul." Although she was happy for her mentor she had been looking forward to fine food, drink, and the most comfortable bed she’d ever slept on. What if Nasrin looked down upon her and the brothers from her new social standing?

 _'_ _We are about to find out,'_  Ruxandra thought several days later as the harbor came into view. The capital city loomed before them, glittering like gold above the sandy shore. Spires pierced the sky and boats with crisp sails glided by. Longshoremen began shouting orders to one another, then the crew cast down ropes to secure the ship in its berth.

"Dio mio…" Federico breathed, "This city is incredible!" Ezio only nodded, awestruck. They disembarked the vessel, waved goodbye to Captain Emin, and followed Ruxandra into the bustling populace. It seemed there was no social caste in the harbor market because everyone gossiped, argued and bartered with one another freely, much different than Florence where the nobles did not venture to the poorer areas of the city. Federico soon found himself watching Ruxandra’s hips sway to and fro as she skirted clusters of people speaking a language neither he nor Ezio had any hope of comprehending. Luckily they were clad in their Ottoman attire so nobody gave them a second look.

Eventually the girl stopped outside a home with flowers bursting from window boxes and ivy winding up the pillars. She exhaled nervously, using a brass ring to knock three times upon the wooden door. After ten anxious seconds it opened to reveal the face of a tanned, raven-tressed woman who was very pregnant beneath her dark green kaftan. "Roušanak?" the woman grinned. "Is that you?"

"Merhaba, Nasrin. Should I now call you Nasrin Hatun?" The woman clapped delightedly before giving Ruxandra a tight hug.

"You look so different! I trust you made it to Italya just fine?"

"I did, but now I am on the way home, which is why these men are with me." She introduced the brothers in Turkish. "They are Federico and Ezio Auditore of Florence."

Nasrin politely bowed her head. "Memnun oldum. You are all more than welcome into my home." She stepped aside and held out an arm, the boys tentatively following Ruxandra into the foyer.

"If the women here are as pretty as her when pregnant, I can't wait to meet some regular-sized ones."

"Ezio!" Federico hissed, "Show some respect!" His brow slowly unfurrowed while taking in the lavish abode that was dripping in marble of various colors. Bright tiles outlined fountains trickling from the walls and there was a plethora of plants in polished vases. Velvet curtains in saturated hues marked each new section of the house and Federico inhaled deeply as several tantalizing scents tickled his nose.

"Your old room is still fully furnished," Nasrin said to the girl, "and the other guest rooms are prepared. Please show them while I prepare some tea, or should I have my chef make something more filling?"

"Thank you, that would be wonderful." Ruxandra had to wait a moment to earn the brothers’ attention, then they trailed her up the stairs that deposited them onto a balcony with a wrought iron railing. Farther down the hall were four doors; Ruxandra pushed through the first on the right, sighing contentedly as memories came rushing back. It was in this room she had refined her sewing and embroidery skills under Nasrin’s mother’s strict tutelage. The familiar desk she had spent many nights poring over language tomes still sat in the corner, and a plush canopy bed occupied the adjacent wall. There was a divan covered with an embroidered blanket and pillows, and a tall armoire waited for clothes to fill it once more.

"You lived like royalty," Ezio remarked. "How could you stand La Rosa Colta?"

"It was better to have a roof over my head than none at all," the girl returned, waving them away. "Settle in to whichever room you like.”

Federico folded his arms at the threshold. "I see Nasrin is expecting. Is she married? Where is her husband?"

"She is married to the Sultan," Ruxandra explained, "but she is the inheritor of this house. As a noblewoman she has retained some autonomy and will likely move into the palace once her child is born."

"Ah" Federico said, leaving to claim the room opposite her own. It was similarly styled but had a different color scheme in addition to a large medicine cabinet. After stowing his few belongings he reentered her abode. “Why have we come here? Why not head straight to your homeland?”

The girl sighed shortly. "We need supplies for the long journey, not to mention horses. Nasrin will provide the funds we need. In addition, thanks to her status as a wife of el-Fatih, she can inform us of current events and political situations."

“You’re worried that you uncle has some influence here?” Federico scoffed. “You’re beginning to sound a little paranoid.”

“My fears are reasonable,” she shot back. “ _You_  should be more worried about what could happen to your family if Matthias discovers how they helped me escape from right beneath his nose.”

Nasrin put her guests at ease with the aid of chamomile tea. Night fell upon them, a dark summer shroud blanketing the city in slumber. Gone was the cacophony of people and animals. Street lamps were lit but neither Federico nor Ezio felt like exploring; they had been at sea for a long time and missed the feel of solid ground beneath their feet. Through Ruxandra they were able to converse with Nasrin and learn more about her. She became the third wife of sultan Mehmed II just a few months after Ruxandra left for Italy. Being the daughter of the Grand Vizier granted her substantial influence in government affairs. Together with her father Karamani Mehmet Pasha they were trying to overturn many of the restrictive laws placed on Ottoman women.

Nasrin was seven months pregnant and expected the child would be a boy judging by how strongly he kicked her belly. Ruxandra tentatively placed a hand upon her swollen abdomen, gasping when she felt movement beneath her palm. "I cannot imagine what it would be like to carry a life within me." She blushed at the statement, wishing the Auditore brothers were not around. Thankfully they couldn't understand her words.

"I should think you would have met plenty of fine gentlemen in Florence," Nasrin said after taking a sip of tea. "Like these two. They are both very handsome!"

"What did she say?" Ezio inquired, his mouth full of hummus and toasted bread, which he quite enjoyed.

"She says you and Federico are handsome," Ruxandra relayed. A shy smile tugged at the corner of Federico’s lips, then she faced their hostess once more. “What is Dilara up to these days? If it would not inconvenience her, might she accompany us to the market tomorrow?”

Nasrin beamed. “That’s a wonderful idea! She has a singing lesson tomorrow but it takes place in the afternoon. I’m sure she’d love to escort you three, and she has seen much more of the city than I.” The woman called out, summoning a manservant. “Please go to my sister’s house and inform her that I have some guests I’d like her to meet. Tell her to be here by nine o’clock—” She glanced at Ruxandra. “—if that’s not too early for you.” The girl shook her head and Nasrin sent the man on his way. “With that, I think it is time we all went to bed. You have much to accomplish tomorrow." She gathered the colorful tea glasses, silver teapot and matching tray, then stood up carefully. "Iyi geceler."

"Her şey için teşekkür ederim, Nasrin." Ruxandra respectfully lowered her head before departing the dining area with Federico and Ezio in tow, yawning when she arrived outside her room. "Good night you two. We rise early, and after we finish shopping…" She paused to sniff disdainfully. "You two  _must_  make use of the bathtub."

* * *

The brothers initially laughed at the suggestion that they were malodorous, but upon waking and smelling the absorbent silk sheets they agreed that a hot soak would be beneficial. Ruxandra clothed herself in a long-sleeved tunic that reached her knees and a pair of wide, loose trousers. The pale colors were such a stark contrast to the attire Federico was accustomed to seeing her in that when he entered the main hall he thought she was someone else entirely. "What are you wearing?" he inquired.

"This is called jabador, an outfit Nasrin used to wear. Now she finds the kaftan more comfortable." She examined Federico’s outfit and made some minor adjustments, then did the same to Ezio, who had haphazardly secured a turban around his head. She pointed a strict finger at him. “I warn you now, Ezio Auditore, that if you attempt to seduce Nasrin’s younger sister I will cut off your favorite appendage.”

The boy held up his hands in shock. “I haven’t even met her yet! I don’t even remember her name!”

“Dilara,” Federico provided. “She has a reputation as a skilled singer.”

Ezio considered the description. “In that case, wouldn’t it be polite of me to ask to hear her sing? If I just so happen to solicit it in bed…” This statement earned him a punch on each arm and his brother slapped him upside the head for good measure. However, the pain was not enough to prevent his heart from skipping a beat when the trio entered the parlor where the noblewomen were waiting. Dilara looked just like her sister save her eyes, which were hooded and gave her a rather amorous gaze. “Come hither, my lady…” Ezio muttered.

After introductions were made the quartet bid Nasrin farewell and entered the street, heading to the recently-finished Cevahir Bedestan, a covered market near the Bayezid Mosque. Federico’s head turned every-which-way as he took in the beautiful architecture, but Ezio’s eyes remained focused on Dilara’s posterior. She was oblivious to his attention, however, focused more on speaking with Ruxandra. The girls treated one another like siblings since they were the same age; both of them had been subject to admonishment by the older, wiser Nasrin.

The bazaar was already bustling with all manner of vendors, commoners, and nobles. "Stay off that side of the street," Dilara warned, leading the foreigners into the grand building. "No one there but beggars and thieves.”

"Is there much civil unrest?" Ruxandra wanted to know.

The dark-haired girl nodded sadly. "The gaps between certain classes are growing. People who come from the far reaches of the empire are looked down upon, so el-Fatih hopes that keeping our father as Grand Vizier will prove that he doesn't have the interests of only Istanbul at heart. Father is trying his best to change the laws, but the other advisors stand in his way."

"It sounds as if they conspire against him." Ruxandra sighed knowing there was nothing she could do; although much of the city seemed just as she remembered it, much more had changed. She put those thoughts out of mind and focused on acquiring the supplies needed for the long journey to Transylvania. That didn’t take too long, though, and soon after they ventured into a hookah lounge to try some shisha. Perhaps it was the veiled atmosphere that loosened their tongues, but Ruxandra ended up translating Ezio’s opinion of Dilara and the two walked off together when they left the lounge.

"Do you trust him with her?” Federico dubiously inquired.

Ruxandra waved off his concern. "Dilara is a daughter of Grand Vizier Karamani. She might entertain Ezio’s ego but I do not expect her to do much else." They wandered to the harbor, sitting down on a bench to watch ships come and go.

"But she's a noble, and Ezio and I are nobles, and you are as well. Still, I don't believe that one’s social standing should dictate who you’re allowed to have feelings for. My brother might seem like an indiscriminate lover but he prefers the company of ladies who can think and act for themselves. With more women becoming educated the world over…" He stopped when the girl exuded a rueful sigh.

"I am not a noble, Federico. Perhaps I would be a member of the Hungarian court if my father was still alive, but he is not. I am just an ordinary girl trying to return to the only family I foolishly left behind, and I want to ensure the ring stays out of my uncle’s hands. He may be at the castle as we speak, searching everywhere to find it!” A nearby fruit vendor eyed them with interest, prompting Ruxandra to lower her voice. "We leave tomorrow. Our journey may take a couple weeks or a month depending on the quality of our horses. I only pray these feelings of dread abate when I set foot in my homeland.” She paused to sigh again. “Yet, like here, I am nervous to see how it has changed.”

Federico put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We won’t know until we get there, so it’s best to let go of your anxiety and accomplish one task at a time.”

The crowds thinned around noon as everyone returned home for lunch, but Federico and Ruxandra pressed on since they had eaten a substantial breakfast. They acquired as much food as possible for the journey, mainly dates, nuts and dried fruit. “Dates are a miracle of this land. Our horses will remain strong if they eat them, and they can stave off dehydration.”

“Speaking of that…” The boy glanced at a nearby well. “Are we going to bring water?”

“Just one satchel,” Ruxandra answered. “In the mountains there are plenty of streams and rivers, even hot springs! Getting through Rumelia should not be too difficult, but the Carpathians will present a challenge since winter is fast approaching.”

"You wouldn’t know it by  _this_  weather." He ran a hand down his sweaty face. "Can we go back to Nasrin’s home now? I want to make that bath a cold one.”

Their hostess had one of her handmaidens fill a stone basin with fresh water. It took ten buckets to fully immerse Federico, and while he undressed a few of the girls giggled and whispered to one another before scurrying off. Ruxandra passed them in the corridor, shaking her head at such behavior. “I brought some things for you,” she said, startling the boy. “A loofah and oils will be of much benefit.”

"Th-thank you" Federico stuttered, hoping the water was dark enough to shield his nether regions. "Any word from Ezio?"

She folded her arms and scowled. "He is with Dilara at her home. They will be returning for dinner." Federico briefly nibbled his lip, unsure if he should apologize for his philandering sibling. The only way to keep Ezio out of trouble was to be glued to his hip, but Federico had his own life to live. He couldn’t watch him every second of every day. Ruxandra released a resigned sigh. “At least Dilara enjoys his company. Her happiness is all that matters.”

“So does yours,” the boy stated. “I’ve hardly seen you smile since we left Firenze. Maybe you need something to take your mind away from the anxiety of returning home.”

One of Ruxandra’s light blonde eyebrows arched high. “What exactly are you suggesting, Federico? Do you wish to employ your brother’s distraction technique?”

“What? No, that’s not what I was getting at!” He floundered for a moment. “We could go to the theater, or a restaurant, or tour more of the city. I just want you to stop worrying about everything, especially things that are out of your control!”

She pondered his declaration. “Very well, we will go out tonight. In that case you must utilize these oils.” Smiling, Ruxandra uncorked one and poured it into the basin, then worked it into a lather. Federico ran the loofah over his arms, abdomen and legs, but he couldn’t reach between his shoulders or the middle of his back. His grunts of frustration summoned the girl from her room and she pursed her lips. “Can you do nothing on your own?”

“If you could wash my back I’d appreciate it,” Federico said earnestly. With an eye-roll the girl pushed up her sleeves and began scrubbing his skin. Initially she just wanted to get it over with, but after a minute she slowed to admire the muscle definition of his broad shoulders. The boy slumped forward and released short groans of pleasure, rocking with the motions of the loofah. He wasn’t sure when Ruxandra began using her hands to massage his back instead, but it felt amazing. Her fingertips traveled to his collarbone and chest, and Federico leaned against the wall of the stone tub, his head dropping back as he reveled in the feeling.

Ruxandra abruptly stopped. He opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, an unreadable expression on her visage. Federico held her gaze in an attempt to divine what she was thinking. “Get dressed,” Ruxandra said curtly, placing a pile of clean clothes on a stool. “Dinner is in an hour.”

* * *

Federico could hear Ruxandra pacing in her room and felt partially responsible for elevating her anxiety.  _"You must speak to her,"_  his subconscious suggested.  _“Listen to whatever she has to say. Be the solid rock in her tumultuous sea.”_

He nodded to himself, got out of bed, and knocked softly on her door. He heard a slight gasp and a bit of scampering, then Ruxandra said “come in” in a falsely-cheery tone. She stood before a water bowl with a cloth in hand, apparently wash her face. But Federico knew that trick since Claudia had performed it more than once: cold water took away the red, puffy cheeks people earned from crying. “Are you all right, mia cara?”

“I am just fine,” she replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was just going over our provisions to ensure I did not forget anything.”

Federico examined the bags waiting on a bench– they were in the exact same positions as when they had been placed. “Why are you lying to me?” She started to say “I’m not” but the boy cut her off by drawing her into a tight hug, burying his nose in her fine hair. “Roxana, please tell me what troubles you. I know you’ve been weeping for the past hour. I can  _feel_  that something is weighing you down.”

She shifted in his grip but didn’t try to shove him away. After a few mutterings in her native tongue she released a breath and Federico lowered his arms. “I worry…” she slowly began, “I worry for both our families. I fear that mine will not be there when I return, that the only faces to greet me will be the portraits hanging in the castle halls.” The boy motioned for her to continue, but Ruxandra sat on her bed before doing so. “I still cannot banish the feeling that something has happened to your family, and to that end I regret ever speaking to you, getting you involved. This should be _my_  burden to bear, but I am weak. I can do nothing on my own.”

Rather than instantly dismissing her self-doubt, Federico focused on the fact that she greatly cared about the Auditore’s wellbeing despite hardly knowing them. “I appreciate your concern for my family, but believe me when I say they are very capable of defending themselves, even Petruccio. My family also has a great, powerful ally in the Medici– they wouldn’t just roll over and let Matthias have free reign in Firenze.”

“But would they step out of his way if the threat of war looms over your city?” The longer Ruxandra stared at him with her ethereal eyes the more he thought he could see the inner workings of her mind, which unnerved him and made him glance away.

“Do you honestly believe your uncle would start a war with Italia just to find you and get the ring?” As the question left his lips Federico realized it might very well be rhetorical. He shook his head a little while Ruxandra closed her eyes, a tear escaping a moment later. His hand instantly rose to brush it away and she turned into his palm, letting it assuage her.

“I wish I had your confidence,” she murmured.

“I wish I had your empathy,” he returned.

Again they stared deep into one another’s eyes, and a little voice in Federico’s head told him this was the perfect time to kiss her. It would dismiss her worries, at least temporarily, but he knew Ruxandra wouldn’t truly feel at peace until she was home with her family. Still, he wanted to help, and his proficiency at love-making would at least provide the restful night’s sleep she needed. To that end, Federico touched his forehead to hers and moved his hand to the back of her neck. “Do I have permission to distract you?”

Ruxandra nodded after a moment’s consideration.


	8. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iyi yolculuklar: have a good journey  
> Sagolun: thank you  
> Abla: elder sister  
> Dunarea: Danube River  
> Firlama: cheeky bastard  
> Bine ati venit: welcome (formal)  
> Piacere di conoscerla: nice to meet you (formal)

**Reunion**

Federico awoke to a sunbeam warming a spot on his exposed thigh. He blocked it with his palm, but then the back of his hand grew hot. With a slight grunt of annoyance he pulled the blanket over his legs, making Ruxandra stir. “Sorry, mia columba,” he murmured, brushing her hair aside to kiss the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Really, every part of her body was sensitive to him since it had never known a man’s touch until last night. The love they made had been very gentle, languid even, because Federico wanted it to be only for her. He hadn’t felt a shred of pride at being the one to claim her virginity, he just wanted her to focus on the present, on him, instead of what lay behind them and the danger that may yet come to pass. He wanted to take away her worries and make her feel something else, anything besides fear.

Judging by the way Ruxandra slept so soundly in his arms, he had succeeded… for the time being, anyway. He didn’t know if she would require this kind of reassurance again, if she now hated herself for giving in to temptation, or if she would ever look at him the same way. Federico absently moved his fingers up and down her waist as he thought about what to say when she woke up. He’d made love to reluctant partners before, women who cast him out of their beds immediately after the deed was done and never spoke to him again, but Ruxandra couldn’t do that since he still had to escort her to Transylvania, and she still had to surrender her father’s ring. _‘She could send me home and keep Ezio for company,’_ he reasoned, _‘though I’m sure her tolerance of him would wear out quickly.’_

Pondering the next leg of their journey filled him with sadness. Once Ruxandra returned to her castle he’d never see her again; even though a relatively short amount of time had passed, Federico was certain he was in love with her. He’d never met a girl like her, a girl who was equal parts Hungarian nobility, free-spirited Romani, cultured Turk, and resourceful Italian. All combined to form the fascinating person that was Ruxandra Narcisa Hunyadi, a person Federico knew would take years to fully understand. But those were years he could easily picture spending with her, in their own home with their own children.

His sense of duty arose to censure those images. Federico couldn’t just elope with some girl he barely knew when he had a family and city that required his loyalty. Upon the successful completion of this mission he would return home and request from his father knowledge of the secret faction he worked with, his ultimate goal to join them and become a protector of Firenze as well. He hoped Ezio had similar thoughts in mind, though he didn’t cling to that hope too tightly. _‘One step at a time, Federico…’_ he reminded himself. _‘First you have to survive winter in the mountains.’_ What an unpleasant notion that was.

He sighed a bit despondently before nuzzling Ruxandra’s neck, inhaling as much of her orange flower (he was quite proud of himself for finally identifying the scent) perfume as possible lest he never get the chance again. The girl shifted against him, muttering something unintelligible, so Federico wrapped an arm around her, found her fingers and laced them between his own. “I don’t want to let you go,” he admitted, planting soft kisses on her skin. “I love you, Roxana Hunedora.”

“I bet you say that to every girl you bed, Federico Auditore,” she groggily returned, but there was a smile in her tone. “We must rise and prepare for the journey.”

“Can’t we lie here a bit longer?”

“No, we must head out while there is plenty of light. Let me go… please.”

He was extremely remiss to do so, but at least he got to see Ruxandra naked in the pale dawn. She moved about the room almost silently, as if she were an ethereal spirit, and Federico knew he had to stop thinking of her as some kind of otherworldly creature that he could capture. If she wanted to be his, she would choose to be. He could tell her how he felt in serious conversation but ultimately Ruxandra would decide her own future. That didn’t mean he had to give up all hope of becoming part of it.

Once Ruxandra was dressed in a kaftan suitable for traveling she left Federico to rouse his brother while she ventured outside, veiling her face as she walked to the animal market. Nasrin had already purchased three horses for her guests; Ruxandra was shocked to discover they were fine Akhal-Tekes from east of the capital. One was dark bay in color, another was chestnut with tall stockings, and the last, a mare, had blue eyes with a coat of glittering sand. She led the horses to the courtyard at the rear of Nasrin’s home where her servants brought out the tack; it hadn’t been used in a long while but the leather was kept oiled since equine accessories were much more affordable to maintain than they were to purchase. The mounts looked quite regal in their finery, though the bay horse didn’t seem to appreciate the decorative tassels since he continuously shook his head.

Returning inside, Ruxandra grabbed the satchels from her room before heading downstairs to the outdoor patio, Nasrin’s personal retreat. She loved cultivating flowers, especially the roses of her namesake, and was trimming a potted yellow plant when the girl came upon her. She lowered the shears, stood up slowly with one hand supporting her large belly, and smiled ruefully. “It saddens me to watch you leave again. Before you go, I want you to name this baby. I know it will be a boy.”

The blonde girl thought for a moment, considering a regal name for an Ottoman prince. “Iskander,” she declared.

Nasrin nodded and drew Ruxandra into a tight embrace. “Promise me you will travel swiftly and safely to your homeland. And once you are there, and have rested and decided where to go on your next adventure, make sure to visit me and my son before you have settled. He would love to hear your stories.” A single tear was absorbed by the girl’s shawl. “Iyi yolculuklar, Roušanak.”

“Sağolun, Abla.” Ruxandra held a smile as she retreated from the patio, but as soon as her back was turned she felt her eyes grow damp. She managed to stay the tears so Federico and Ezio wouldn’t see, holding her features steady as she climbed into her horse’s saddle.

“Are you all right?” the elder brother inquired.

She sighed. “I almost wish I could stay here– Nasrin and Dilara are like sisters to me. I will miss them greatly.” With the slightest of squeezes she urged her mount forward, the other two following instinctively.

“Don’t forget that your _real_ family hasn’t seen you in… how many years?”

She shot a glare at Ezio. “Family is comprised of whoever you allow into your heart. I learned that from the Romani, whom I also dearly miss. One does not have to be related by blood to deserve your unconditional love.

* * *

They traveled in silence for several hours, following the road along the Marmara Sea until the shore disappeared and a thick forest loomed before them. They entered Rumelia, a mountainous territory with a near-instant change in climate. Luckily fur cloaks were among their provisions and they stopped in the town of Edime to affix them. From there they traveled to Sofia. It was close to night when they arrived, light from the sinking sun glinting off snow-capped peaks in the distance. “What should we do, Roxana?” Ezio asked. “Spend the night at an inn or on the road?”

“We should rest here,” she replied. “Not far north there is a mighty river we must cross, the Dunărea, which is best seen in daylight. It also marks the southern border of Wallachia and there will likely be Ottoman military forces posted all along it. I want to avoid them.”

Federico glanced around, lowering his voice. “How to you plan to do that?”

“We can cut further west into Serbia, then continue north. It will be good if we reach Belgrade tomorrow. From there it is one more day’s ride to Hunedoara, my village, assuming the snows are not too deep. There are caves in the mountains in the event we need shelter, so do not fret.” Ruxandra smiled, a genuinely relieved smile that she was only a couple days from reuniting with her family. It also contained a slight smirk at the fact that the Auditores were completely out of their element and absolutely reliant on her navigational skills at this point.

They located an inn on the edge of the city, surrendering enough Ottoman dinar for one room, three meals, and use of the stable. The young boy there gasped at the sight of the Akhal-Tekes and went about grooming them very delicately, as if they were porcelain figures and not hardy animals that had already traveled far. “What are their names, Miss?” he asked Ruxandra.

“Let us see…” She put a thoughtful finger on her lips before pointing at Federico’s chestnut. “This one is Zeki– that means ‘intelligent’. The feisty bay shall be called Erol, one who bravely carries his rider into unknown lands. And my mare must be Melek, for if an angel ever appeared in the form of a horse most certainly this is what she would look like.” The stable boy repeated each name and murmured kind words to the animals as he brushed them, allowing Ruxandra to fully relax knowing they were in good hands. She ventured inside and sat down across from the brothers to enjoy a dinner of bread, cheese, and beef stew. Connected to the inn was a hammam that had been built to accommodate the Turkish soldiers stationed in Sofia. It was also open to the patrons and their guests from the brothel down the street; Ruxandra could hear the deep, authoritative voices of the soldiers mingling with the giggling prostitutes… among other noises she wished to purge from her ears.

It was unfortunate she could not have her kaftan laundered, but the bath house was already a commodity she hadn’t expected. In lieu of soaking her ensemble to remove the horse scent she hung it up in the hammam to steam it, which helped a little. She intended to share this tip with Federico and Ezio but they were not in the room when she returned. At first she was annoyed that neither of them had stayed to guard their belongings, then she reasoned they weren’t really carrying anything of value. What little coin they had left might be enough to bribe a checkpoint officer if they encountered a particularly stubborn one. They didn’t even have a map, and that made Ruxandra realize the brothers would have a difficult time getting home without one. She went to the small desk, grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill and an ink well, and set to work.

Once again they left at dawn, but it was actually a little later in the morning since dark clouds had hidden the sun. The trio pressed on slowly, riding three abreast on the road as moisture soaked their clothes, more mist than actual rain. “I hate this!” Ezio exclaimed as another cold drop of water rolled down his spine. “How long until we reach Belgrade?”

“It is at least a full day’s ride away,” Ruxandra answered remorsefully. “We have only just set out.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” he grumbled, vigorously shaking his head to dislodge the water from his tied-back hair.

“You wouldn’t be having an issue if you’d cut off that rat tail,” Federico remarked. “Long hair only gets in the way during a fight, anyway.” The two of them launched into an argument about personal style as the girl sighed and urged her horse forward, trotting until she couldn’t hear either of them. The path inclined slightly, indicating they had entered the foothills of the mountains. The temperature steadily decreased as well, and after a few more hours tiny snowflakes began sticking to her cloak. Daylight seemed to be disappearing fast; the brothers spurred their horses to catch up to Ruxandra so they wouldn’t lose her in the dark. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when the limits of Belgrade came into view but their sense of ease abruptly vanished as a group of highwaymen stopped them at the entrance.

“Where have you come from?” a blond man asked gruffly.

“Istanbul,” Ruxandra replied.

“Where are you riding to?”

“Budapest.” She said this calmly even though her heart was racing.

Another man came forward, scrutinizing them. “Just who are the three of you?”

Ruxandra had anticipated this question; the answer would be tricky since there were several different political stances to consider. Serbia was technically under Ottoman control, but it was a bit far north and governed by its original lords for the most part, lords who had been granted land by Hungary and thus owed some allegiance to its king, Matthias. None of them could pass for Turks and the brothers didn’t look like at all Slavic, so Ruxandra couldn’t lie about their nationalities. Instead she decided to tell a convoluted version of the truth.

“My name is Anna Garai,” she stated, using her mother’s clan name. “I traveled to Istanbul per the request of His Highness to meet with these Italian noblemen, the lords of Sicily and Malta, in order to escort them to the capital so that they may discuss trade routes with His Highness. I am pleased to tell you that negotiations to establish naval routes with the Ottomans were successful.” Ruxandra preened before conspiratorially lowering her voice. “I daresay Matthias wishes me to marry one of these two in order to strengthen the bonds between our nations. Which do you think I should choose?” She tittered airily, grinning at the men. The fact that she referred to the king by his first name should have tipped them off that she was someone influential in the court, someone who could have them hanged if they impeded her mission.

“Miss Garai, please pardon us for delaying you. If it is an inn you seek, I recommend the Silver Shire. They will take good care of your horses.”

Perfect; they probably thought the steeds were gifts from the Sultan. “Thank you, gentlemen. Oh, but I have a question. Do you know how the weather is in Budapest?”

“The capital is completely covered in snow from what I hear,” someone answered. “Rare this time of year, so be sure to take it slowly and carefully. Good luck, milady.” Ruxandra gave them an appreciative nod and motioned for the brothers to follow her. Both of them had remained as neutral as possible and utterly silent; Federico blew out the breath he’d withheld once they passed beneath the city gate.

“What on earth did you say to them, Roxana? I thought they would drag us off our horses and run us through with those pikes! Your tongue must be made of pure silver!”

The girl blushed since it had only been a couple days ago that Federico’s tongue was in her mouth. “I said you two were Italian nobles so I expect you to act the part. That means we will not be sharing a room tonight and you are not to go wandering off… especially to the brothels.” She directed a meaningful look at Ezio.

He held up a hand. “I don’t need a whore tonight. As a matter of fact, I’m still satisfied with the way Dilara _treated_ me before we left, if you get my meaning.”

Federico rolled his eyes as Ruxandra called him “firlama”. She had to ask around to find the Silver Shire Inn, but once there they were shown as much courtesy as they had received in Sofia. Since they were now completely broke they _had_ to make it to Hunedoara by tomorrow. None of them would be able to survive a frigid night in the wilderness.

* * *

A church bell rang in the village and the door of a cross-adorned building opened wide to expel a group of young children. An older woman with platinum hair and intelligent eyes appeared on the front step to wave goodbye. Her warm smile faded a little when a few lingering students began excitedly pointing at something and shouting to one another. “What do you see?” the woman asked.

“Travelers, Matron!” a little boy answered, grinning. “Three of them on horseback!” The woman’s brow furrowed as she made her way to them, avoiding piles of slush on the road. “Up there, on the ridge!”

“Yes, yes, I see them now,” she said calmly. “Return to your homes. I’m sure they’re just passing through.” Her pupils dispersed and she strained to discern more details of the strangers but could only make out the colorful blankets on their horses. Pursing her lips, the woman went as quickly as her aged body allowed to the castle on the hill. “Maria!” she called, her strong voice echoing down stone corridors. “Maria, come to me!” Her daughter-in-law appeared from the kitchen with a dishtowel in hand, raising a mildly annoyed eyebrow at her elder. “There are travelers on the road. Do you know what that could mean?”

Maria held up a hand. “Don't get my hopes up again, Erzsebet…”

“Perhaps Our Lord has finally returned Ruxandra to us!” The notion made her eyes water.

The younger woman wearily rubbed her temple. “I've been waiting ten years for God to return my daughter, and I've wasted that many years clinging to foolish hope and prayer.” She returned to the stove where a hearty stew was simmering, leaving her mother-in-law to sigh sadly.

A loud boom suddenly filled the foyer, the sound of someone using the enormous door knocker. Erzsebet quickly went to the entrance but froze. What if Maria was right and it really was foolish of her to keep hoping? Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tugged on the heavy wooden door. “Salut, Bunică,” came a soft, feminine voice. Tears flooded Erzsebet’s eyes before she even opened them, blurring the image of her grown-up granddaughter who she all but smothered. “Maria!” she cried, choking on her emotions, “Maria, she’s here!”

Ruxandra dried her eyes on her sleeve in order to see her mother clearly. Maria stood at the threshold to the dining room, her features totally impassive while she studied the girl. Ten years’ worth of worry was tough to let go of; she honestly thought her daughter died long ago. Even now she was unsure if this were reality or one of the many dreams she’d had of Ruxandra’s homecoming. Her daughter seemed to sense that and placed a tentative hand on her arm. “I’m back, Mama. I’m here. I’m alive… and I’m sorry.” When the girl wrapped her arms around Maria’s neck, she finally snapped out of her stupor and sunk to her knees, taking her daughter with her while weeping into her blonde hair.

Ezio and Federico waited at the entry for the emotional reunion to finish. Eventually the crying stopped and Ruxandra was able to introduce them. “Mama, Bunică, this is Federico and Ezio Auditore of Florence. They’ve come to take away Baba’s ring.”

The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed as both women involuntarily shivered. “Is… is that why you’re here? Is that all you came back for?” Maria inquired. Her eyes pleaded for it not to be so.

“I’m here to stay, Mama,” Ruxandra reassured. “I have traveled quite far, admittedly because Matthias found me in Florence, but I decided it was time to come home. It just so happened the journey worked out favorably for all of us.”

“I think we need to hear the full story,” Erzsebet said. She then smiled at the brothers. “We would be honored if you’d join us for dinner.”

Ezio blinked in amazement. “You speak Italiano? How?”

“I have made more than one journey to the Vatican in my time,” the woman explained. “Our languages are not so different, either. When I say ‘bine aţi venit’, you answer…”

“Piacere di conoscerla,” Federico replied. Maybe all this time spent with Ruxandra had made him susceptible to understanding Romanian.

Erzsebet grinned. “That’s very good. Xandra, would you mind setting the table?”

“Of course, Bunică.” The girl gave a little curtsy before scurrying off to the dining hall, noting that nothing had changed from her youth besides the fact that she was now tall enough to reach everything in the dish cabinet. She went about her task in silence, listening to the conversation between Ezio, Federico and her grandmother as they took seats near the kitchen threshold. The brothers relayed most of the details about their journey, omitting that they had initially met Ruxandra because she was working for a bordello. They told Erzsebet about sailing on Captain Emin’s ship, meeting Nasrin and Dilara in Istanbul, and appreciating the beauty of the Carpathians, which they had never seen before. The woman asked them about Florence and they answered readily, their descriptions soliciting pangs of longing in Ruxandra’s heart.

 _‘This is my home, though… This is where I belong. Mama and Bunică need me.’_ A darker part of her refuted, _‘They’ve already managed without me for a whole decade. I could go back.’_ But she knew she didn’t really _want_ to go back, nor did she have any reason to. _‘But what about Federico? I don’t want this to be the last time I see him.’_ Pondering such thoughts kept her quiet throughout dinner, though she reflexively gave her family appreciative smiles when they said kind things about her, such as how beautiful she’d become and how it was evident her soul was still filled with wanderlust.

“She was the most rambunctious child,” Maria told the boys. “I used to read her fairy tales at night and the next day I would find her pretending to be a knight seeking dragons to destroy.” Federico laughed softly; the expression Ruxandra pulled did nothing to hinder her exponentially-increasing charm. “She was never interested in playing the damsel in distress.” Maria faced her daughter then. “You wanted to be the hero of you own story. I always knew that, and I knew deep down that you would be victorious in whatever quest you had undertaken.”

“Speaking of quests, Mama…” Ruxandra placed her hand atop her mother’s, noting that she still wore her wedding band. “We must allow the Auditores to continue theirs. We must give them Baba’s ring.”

“Can it wait, darling? They deserve at least a couple nights’ rest.” Erzsebet nodded in agreement. “Why don’t you show them the rooms while we clean up?”

Stifling a sigh, Ruxandra rose from her chair. “Thank you for the meal,” Federico quickly said, nudging Ezio to repeat the sentiment. With that they returned to the foyer and the grand double staircase. Ruxandra hiked up the side nearest them, pausing at the landing to admire the crystal chandelier. It must have been cleaned recently since there was not much wax collected at the bases of the candle holders, but she had yet to see a servant. Then again, she had only set foot in two rooms of the castle. It seemed much larger for some reason, as if it had grown at the same rate as she.

The hall eventually split off in three directions. If they kept going straight they would arrive in the eastern tower, a fabulous spot to watch the sunrise. To the right were the Hunyadi’s bedchambers and to the left were, sensibly, the guest quarters. Ruxandra stopped outside one of the doors, indicating for the boys to go ahead. Ezio strode inside and instantly whistled his approval. The room was full of velvet and finely-crafted oak furniture. There was a row of windows that looked out across the northern section of the village and the fields beyond, which had been transformed into vast blankets of snow.

Federico’s room was identical except for the roll-top oak desk. “I believe my mother had that brought here while she was hosting some Moldavian palatines. I must have been four or five at the time.” She shrugged off the nostalgia as the boy gave her a look of wonder.

“Your home is one of the most incredible places I’ve ever set foot in. To think you were born in such a castle… I’m jealous of you, Roxana.” She smiled bashfully as Federico abandoned the desk to stand before her. “I want to see your room.”

“What for? Everything in it is ten years out of date.”

“I don’t care, I just want to see what you used to consider precious. Please?” Ruxandra rolled her eyes and sighed in an attempt to let Federico know that his smile had no effect on her whatsoever. Although she was feeling quite blasé about her homecoming, her hand began trembling when she reached for the bronze handle of her door. Then her fingers seemingly met a wall, for they would go no further. Federico regarded her worriedly and was about to ask if she needed help, but then the girl closed her eyes, took a very slow, deep breath, and pushed on the door as she exhaled, stepping inside.

The stale smell was the first thing to greet her. When Ruxandra finally cracked her lids she couldn’t actually see anything since there was no light, so she released a dry laugh before walking off down the hall, returning with a small lantern. She set it on the trunk at the base of her four-post canopy bed, which had a huge mattress and was framed by blue velvet curtains. There was a quilt atop her satin comforter, something her mother must have made not long after her disappearance.

Federico walked slowly around the perimeter of the room, running his hand over everything in an attempt to absorb its history. Ruxandra owned both a writing desk and a vanity; both were inlaid with mother-of-pearl that glimmered softly in the candlelight. Her armoire had painted designs on it, flowers and vines that still looked vibrant and fresh. A changing screen stood in one corner of the room, hiding a wash basin that appeared to have been carved from solid granite. Beneath his feet was a plush if slightly dusty rug depicting a scene of unicorns in a garden. His survey finished, Federico tentatively sat down on a corner of the bed. “So this is how a princess lives.”

“I am no princess,” Ruxandra returned. She methodically patted her bedding to dislodge the dust. Tomorrow she’d have to give the floor a good sweep.

“Lady, then. If your father was a duke and your mother a duchess by marriage, that makes you a noblewoman.”

“I abandoned that title when I left with the Romani,” she said tersely. “I do not understand why nobility is so important to you.”

“It isn’t, it would just make…” He faltered, swallowing nervously. “Roxana, there’s something I need to tell you.”

She shot him a smirk. “Are you afraid of traveling back to Italia without me? Do not worry, I drew a map for you and Ezio. There is no need to thank me.”

“That’s not it. Roxana, I…” She stopped fluffing her blankets to furrow her brow. Federico’s words ended up tumbling from his lips in one breath. “I’m in love with you and I want you to marry me!”

* * *

She said no initially, but only because she needed some time to think it over and discuss the union with her matrons. Federico dreamed of the ceremony, Ruxandra donning a sky blue gown instead of traditional white. He really fancied her in blue. When he came downstairs for breakfast he encountered Maria at the fireplace yet again. “Do you not employ servants?” he inquired.

The woman shook her head while carefully removing a cast iron skillet from the flames. Potato cakes had been cooked in it and she slid one onto a plate for Federico. “Erzsebet and I do everything ourselves. Laszlo had servants when I married him, but then he passed. When Ruxandra ran from the rebellion I let them all go– I needed something to keep me occupied instead of spending all day and night worrying about her. There is a girl who comes from the village to help me clean once a month, but that is all.”

Federico hummed thoughtfully and dug into breakfast. Surprisingly there was a layer of beef, carrots and parsnips within the potato, and dried herbs turned the simple dish into something quite savory. He asked for another and enjoyed it even more. Maria smiled, glad to be cooking for someone besides Erzsebet and herself. As she moved about the kitchen Federico realized how little Ruxandra resembled her save their shared pale skin; Maria appeared even whiter due to her raven hair and dark brown eyes. She was slender instead of possessing wide, motherly hips. Her face was thin too, which the boy attributed to how hard she worked on a daily basis, but her full lips were the same shape as her daughter’s.

A large portrait of a man hung at the end of the dining room, overlooking the table. His fair hair and blue eyes led Federico to assume who he was, but just to be sure… “Who is that man in the painting?” he inquired of Maria.

“Janos, Erzsebet’s late husband.”

His jaw dropped. “That’s Roxana’s _grandfather_? I thought it was your… erm…”

Maria shook her head, smiling kindly at the way Federico turned red with embarrassment. She motioned for him to follow her and walked across the foyer into the sitting room. There was a gallery of family portraits, battle scenes, and even some beloved animals such as horses and dogs. Maria stood before the fireplace and stared up at the lone picture there. “ _This_ is Laszlo.”

He had wavy red hair that reached his shoulders and surveyed the room through hazel eyes. The man also had a mustache, high cheekbones, a straight, narrow nose and a pointed jaw. He definitely looked like a leader, a… what was the word they used here? A palatine. “She seems a lot like him,” Federico remarked.

Maria knew he was talking about her daughter. “She is, except for her obstinate personality. She gets that from my side of the family. The Garai have been very vocal with their opinion of Matthias.”

“It seems no one likes him,” the boy uttered.

“It’s quite the opposite, actually.” His eyes widened at Maria. “Hungary views Matthias as a great unifier, a champion of diplomacy. They view us, the Three Nations, as hindrances of peace. We are small nations who should bow our heads and join the rest of the kingdom. But we do not wish to belong to either Hungary or the Ottomans, so we continue to fight on both fronts.”

“I’m sorry you must live through this time of turmoil.” Federico paused to consider something. “I don’t know whether to say this to you or Erzsebet, but as we’ve already been talking…” Maria raised one of her dark eyebrows at him. “If I were to… marry Roxana…” He paused while the woman’s eyes flew open. “If we were to live in my homeland she would be safe. Italy is at peace. She would face no danger there. Matthias would not find her.”

Maria sat her jaw as she all but glared at the boy. “Your straightforwardness is admirable, Federico Auditore. Tell me, how old are you?”

“Twenty,” he answered nervously.

“Mm. So you are at the age where you want to begin a family of your own and your interest in my daughter does not exclusively stem from your loins.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Yet I wonder just how you two became acquainted in the first place, something she has yet to explain. No doubt you saw her and thought to conquer her.”

Federico almost retorted that he already had, but he didn’t want Maria to get even more upset with him. He had to win her over somehow. He took a deep breath to keep himself calm. “Madonna, the truth is that we met by complete accident. When Matthias arrived in Firenze he sent the entire city guard to find her, and she came to the house of Auditore begging for asylum. My family took her in without question. Ezio and I risked our lives bringing her back here, so if anything…” Here he really had to summon his courage. “You owe us a bit of gratitude.”

Maria sniffed disdainfully. “Very well, you have it. But it was wrong of you to assume my daughter would be your prize. I will not grant you her hand in marriage.” The hard edge left her tone. “I believe it is time for you and your brother to return to your own home. We will give you everything you need for the journey. Leave tomorrow morning.” It was an order, not a suggestion. Federico nodded a few times, soon finding himself alone in the parlor surrounded by Hunyadi faces. He couldn’t help but wonder if Laszlo would have withheld Ruxandra from him as well.


	9. Eight

**Anguish**

Ruxandra didn’t seem very disappointed when Federico informed her that Maria wanted him and Ezio to leave the next day, but he didn’t mention angering her by asking to marry the girl. “In this case we must locate my father’s ring,” Ruxandra said upon exiting her room.

“What do you mean? Don’t you remember where you left it?”

She gave him a withering look. “Of course not, I was eight years old.”

“Roxana, this castle is massive! Do you even know the general vicinity of where it might be?”

“I know it must be within arm’s reach of eight-year-old me,” she glibly replied.

“That really narrows it down,” Ezio groaned. “Let’s just start at the bottom and work our way up.” They separated, thoroughly scouring the first level of the castle containing the kitchen, dining hall, knight’s hall, chapel, ballroom and parlors, reconvening in the vestibule an hour later. Judging by their shared expressions none of them had located the heirloom. “What kind of ring are we looking for?” Ezio inquired. “Is it a plain band or…?”

Ruxandra’s brow furrowed in concentration. “It is a wide gold band with a large ruby. I remember it being a bit weathered, with scratches and such. The gem is like a deep red eye.” Recalling the relic’s sinister gaze made her shiver. “I do not think I hid it in any of the bedrooms because I knew it might be found by one of the guests, but I had to have hidden it in a place Matthias would not think to look. I knew every inch of this place when I was a child.” She sighed at the fact that she couldn’t be more helpful.

“Aside from the bedrooms are there any other areas of significance on the second story?” Federico asked.

Ruxandra nodded. “My father’s study.” She led the brothers up the staircase and all the way down the central hall, arriving at an ornately-carved wooden door. Federico thought she would hesitate but she grabbed the brass handle and walked right in. The room was circular and fully lined with bookshelves, the only gaps coming from a large window and a narrow, curving set of steps at the rear. Due to the lack of dust Ruxandra assumed her mother regularly cleaned the study; she wondered if Maria still wept for her stolen husband or if she’d become numb to his memory by now.

She sat down at the ordered desk, opening drawers that turned out to be mostly empty. A few held correspondence between Laszlo and other leaders of the Three Nations, written in his neatly curled hand. While Ezio felt around the window Federico methodically searched the shelves, gasping when his fingers brushed a small metal object and instantly drawing his companions’ attention. “It’s a key,” he announced, presenting it for Ruxandra’s inspection. “Do you know what it goes to?”

Her eyes traveled to the steps before she gingerly plucked the key from Federico’s palm. The brothers waited while she disappeared up the corridor but rushed to her side when the click of a lock reached their ears. Another smaller room greeted them, seemingly built at the very top of the tower; the ceiling consisted of wooden beams supporting a conical spire and there were no windows. Federico instantly knew this was where Laszlo had conducted business pertaining to his secretive life. On the wall was a large map of Europe depicting each country’s borders. Within them were circles and crosses as well as scribbled notes and lists of names, none of which he could translate. Ezio nudged him and pointed to a small table opposite the map. Upon it sat a crumbling candle in a holder, a quill, a bottle of ink, and a leather journal.

“I think this is your father’s diary,” Federico said quietly. Since the room and everything in it had remained undisturbed for nearly two decades it seemed fitting to treat it with respect; these were the last vestiges of Laszlo’s existence. When Ruxandra lifted the journal a small piece of paper detached from the back and fluttered down to the table.

 _My Precious Daughter,  
_  
_Everything you need to know about our family, our lineage, and our duty can be found in this place. I want you to know that even though I am gone, I love you. And I am proud of you, for I know you have grown into a strong woman with a desire to protect others. Altruism is in our blood. Maria and I named you after the dawn because you are our light of hope, so please continue to shine upon the world. It needs people like you to fend off the darkness._  
_Your Loving Father,  
_  
_Laszlo_

Ruxandra folded the note into quarters and stuck it in her apron pocket. “The ring is not here,” she sighed. “Let us continue the search elsewhere.” Ezio and Federico shared a look. Didn’t she have questions? Didn’t she want to go over the room’s contents? Finding the ring could wait if it meant learning more about the father she never knew, the father who’d been taken from her.

Upon exiting the study and closing the door, the trio exchanged worried glances as female shouts echoed down the hallway. Ruxandra gathered up her skirts and ran, the brothers at her heels, coming to an abrupt stop at the landing of the double staircase. “Matthias!” she called. The King of Hungary looked up at her and smiled as Maria and Erzsebet stared in mild horror. They’d been trying to convince him the girl was not in the castle.

“What a pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Matthias spoke. He wasn’t particularly loud but the stone acoustics made his voice resonate. “The last time I came to visit you had slipped away into the night. Your own mother didn’t even know where you’d gone, although it took a few days for her pleading to convince me.” Maria glared daggers at him as a tense silence stretched between Matthias and Ruxandra. He just admitted to torturing her mother and she knew he had come to use the same methods on her.

“Go to the chapel,” she whispered to the brothers. “Erzsebet will help you leave from there.”

Ezio balked. “Roxana, no! We’re not going to let you deal with him on your own!”

“You have to,” she said firmly. “You must return to your family.” Ezio began to protest again but Federico pulled him away, retreating down the hall before turning to watch Ruxandra descend to her uncle with her head held high.

The chapel was a large, quiet space with many rows of disused pews and faded stained glass windows. Ezio sat on the pulpit while Federico paced anxiously, pausing only to light a few candles once the sun went down. Screams occasionally reached their ears, renewing their guilt. How long would Matthias persist until it became apparent his niece didn’t know the whereabouts of Laszlo’s ring? They both started when the door swung open, ushering in an even clearer indication of the agony Ruxandra endured. Erzsebet clutched her rosary as tears streamed down her face. Her second son had become a demon. “I’m sorry,” was all Federico could think to say. “We’ve failed everyone.”

“No you haven’t,” the woman countered, proffering her hand. In her palm was the ruby ring. “One of Matthias’ men pushed me into our family portrait and this fell from behind the frame. Please take it away from here.” Federico accepted it tentatively; as soon as he touched the ring his mind grew foggy with the utterances of a sinister voice. He put it in his vest pocket and the sensation diminished slightly. “I know you managed to arrive here on Ottoman horses, but the quickest way back to Italia is to go west through the Alps. You’ll need horses that can withstand the cold and carry plenty of provisions.” Erzsebet led them into the town of Hunedoara, to the church where townsfolk were waiting with clothes, blankets, food and water. A handler arrived with two stocky horses that were quickly outfitted, and once Ezio and Federico climbed into the saddles Erzsebet gave them a gentle smile. “Godspeed, Auditores.”

* * *

The pain my ancestor endured lingered after I awoke from the Animus. It felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to my back, yet each time I examined myself in the mirror all I saw was plain freckled skin. That wasn't even the worst part of my session. When I returned to the present I asked Shaun for a bottle of water, but he just stared at me like I’d grown another head. "What’s the deal? Are we out of water?" Rebecca also rotated in her chair to frown at me. "What?!"

"Dee, we don't know what you're saying," the Englishman said as plain as day.

I scoffed. "What are you talking about? You just spoke to me in English."

Desmond arrived with a water bottle in hand, taking a swig before handing it over. “That's Romanian,” he said to the technicians while I downed the rest.

"You guys must be high or something. I'm speaking perfect English!" Shaun startled me by shoving a strange device in my face.

"It  _is_  Romanian," he agreed, and Desmond's head bobbed matter-of-factly. "Her original Bleeding Effect."

I froze. "You’ve got to be joking…" I turned to Rebecca but she gave me a look that held no answers, only pity.

"You can understand _us_ , right?" Shaun asked, and I nodded. "That’s fascinating– your brain is actively converting speech into the language it believes you know best. Unfortunately we don't have a host of translators at our beck and call, so you'll just have to wait for it to wear off. Sorry."

This was just great; in addition to absorbing the language of my ancestor I was now absorbing her pain through the Animus as well. I didn't understand that stupid machine at all. Instead of dwelling on things I couldn’t change I focused on those I could, namely my severely-lacking personal hygiene. I stepped into the portable shower in the corner and tossed my smelly clothes over the curtain. The water was only lukewarm but it had no trace of chlorine like back home, so it felt good. There were little dispensers for powdered soap and pink and green liquid, but before I could utilize them a shadow fell on the curtain. “Who’s that?” I asked nervously.

“It’s Desmond. I wanted to say you shouldn’t use the pink stuff, it made me really itchy.”

“Oh, thanks for the warning.” I gathered a handful of green shampoo instead and worked it into my hair. Desmond’s shadow remained. “Is there something else?”

“I just wanted to see where you are in your ancestor’s timeline. Apparently my genetic memories through Ezio skipped forward several years after all this Soul Edge stuff.”

And here I’d been thinking our memories were concurrent. “Well, Federico and Ezio are on their way back to Italy with the ring while Ruxandra’s getting tortured. The weird thing is I felt it while I was under, the whips and spikes and stuff.”

He sucked in a breath. “That sounds awful. I’m so sorry.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah…” Was that a ‘yeah, you’re right’ or a ‘yeah, it is’? “I guess the thing is, Didem—”

“Dee,” I interjected.

“Dee, I wanted apologize for dragging you into all this.”

I sighed. “And I stand by my previous statement, Desmond– it’s _not_ your fault. Blame destiny or whatever.” He just went “hmm” while I rinsed off and cut the water. “Can you hand me a towel? I forgot to grab one.” I wrapped it tightly and stepped out. Desmond instantly blushed, turning away. “Haven’t you ever been in the vicinity of a freshly-showered lady before?” I teased.

“Yeah, I had a girlfriend for a few months when I lived in New York.”

“Oh wow, what was that like?” I rummaged through the crates for a pair of clean underwear and a sports bra, not that my flat chest really needed one. Desmond faced me after I put on some blue sweat pants and a tank top. I doubted I’d be able to wear white ever again; the color would forever remind me of Abstergo.

He stood with his hands in his hoodie pocket, shrugging. “It was noisy and crowded, but that’s what I wanted. I grew up on an Assassin compound in South Dakota. It sucked so I ran away, thinking no one could find me in New York. But Abstergo did. I guess I wasn’t careful enough.” He half-smiled. “Or maybe it’s like you said, destiny or whatever.” I smiled back at him. “Whatever it is, we’re in it together. Let’s see it through to the end.”

“Deal,” I said, and we shook on it.

* * *

Four days of fast travel brought Ezio and Federico to Florence, but even before reaching the city limits they could tell something was wrong– it was much too quiet. Thin plumes of smoke rose into the sky and there were vacated or boarded-up buildings throughout the San Giovanni district. “What happened here?” Ezio asked, turning his head every-which-way for answers. Federico didn’t say anything until they reached Palazzo Auditore, where he dismounted and stood before it agape. Most of the windows on the first floor were shattered, shards of glass still littering the street, and some of the stonework on the second story had been scorched by flame. “No…” Ezio breathed. He ran inside and Federico followed slowly, scanning for clues as to whom or what had ravaged their home.

There was overturned furniture throughout the house. The kitchen table appeared to have been used as a shield; crossbow bolts were embedded amidst long, deep sword cuts. Most of the artwork that had been on display was destroyed. Federico went into each of the bedrooms, noting they’d been plundered for everything of value; the Auditore’s wealth had been shown off through plenty of trinkets and fine clothing. He entered his father’s study and found Ezio staring at a symbol above the hearth that appeared to be written in now-dried blood, a triangular glyph with an X through it, though neither of them knew what the symbol represented. Returning outside, Federico placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Everyone is gone. We should find out where they went.”

“What if they’re dead, fratello?” Ezio quavered.

“I don’t think that’s the case. Whatever happened here, it looks like our family put up one hell of a fight.”

“Indeed they did,” said a voice from behind. It was the matron of La Rosa Colta. “Federico, Ezio, I’ve been waiting for you to return. Firenze has seen much strife since you left with Roxana Hunedora. I’m glad she is no longer lost.” The brothers shared a look, unsure if they should tell Paola how they’d left her. “The destruction you see was wrought by none other than Matthias Corvinus himself. Ride to Monteriggioni, to your family’s villa. That is where you will find the last of them.”

“Thank you, Madonna,” Federico said. He spurred his horse into a canter and tried not to dwell on what she meant by ‘the last of them’. After a hard ride south they arrived at the medieval town just before sunset, which they galloped through without regard for the villagers. At the steps of Villa Auditore Federico practically flew out of the saddle, calling out for each of his family members. Only Giovanni and a man he hadn’t seen in a long time, Uncle Mario, answered.

“Sons, you’re back!” Giovanni met them halfway and all three collapsed in a hugging heap. “I take it you went home first and were found by Paola.”

“Yes, yes…” Federico extricated himself so he could breathe properly, then stared his patriarch directly in the eye. “Father, what happened while we were gone?”

The man instantly looked at the ground, his expression pained. “I’m so glad you two made it back alive. Did you get the Hunedora ring?” He made a sound of approval when Federico pulled it from his pocket. “We had best get this to the Sanctuary. Come, follow me.” They went into the villa, down a secret passage, and entered a cavern encircled by seven towering statues. There were a few other people present who turned to smile at the brothers, praising them as Giovanni placed the ruby ring on an empty pedestal. They all wore hooded robes.

“Father, what is all this?” Ezio asked.

“Part of your birthright,” he answered, but he said it too cryptically. Ezio exploded.

“God damn it, just tell us what’s going on! What happened to Firenze? Why is our palazzo destroyed? Who the hell are these people? Where are Mother, Claudia and Petruccio?!”

Once his voice had stopped resonating throughout the cavern Giovanni put a hand over his face and began to weep. “It’s my fault… everything is my fault.” Ezio angrily crossed his arms while Federico moved to comfort the man. “Matthias came as soon as you left. We were betrayed by one of our own, Uberto Alberti. He told the Hungarians we were sheltering Roxana. He threatened to kill Petruccio unless I told him everything, so I did, but he killed him anyway, right in front of us.” Shudders wracked Giovanni’s aging body. “Four days ago I had a meeting with Lorenzo de’ Medici, and on my way home I was informed the palazzo was under attack by the Pazzi. I ran as quickly as possible but I was too late– they’d defiled our home and killed Maria and Claudia.”

“So… they’re gone?” Ezio fell to the floor in a daze. “Our family has been broken, stolen…” He couldn’t bring himself to cry, just stared straight ahead into nothingness.

Federico embraced his father, feeling his tears soak through the dirty vest. “We’re still here, Papa. You still have us.” Giovanni was sobbing now; Federico tried to remain calm but his emotional state quickly matched that of his father’s. “We’ll make it right, we’ll get revenge on the Pazzi. We’ll restore Firenze to her former beauty. We’ll train, and grow strong, and walk the path you always wanted for us. This will be our new home. These men and women you trust will be our family.”

He couldn’t let his father shoulder the whole burden. Federico had ignored Ruxandra’s warnings that her uncle would act against the Auditore. They hadn’t been swift enough, they had spent too much time basking in the thrill of adventure. She _told_ him over and over again and he hadn’t believed her. He called her paranoid. He fucked her so she’d stop saying those things. But she was right. She knew perfectly well what her uncle was capable of, what he would do in order to obtain Laszlo’s ring. It was too late to apologize to the victims of his ignorance. Maria, Claudia and Petruccio were dead, and Ruxandra likely was, too.

Federico would not let that happen ever again. He would learn everything there was to know about this secret world, about being an Assassin, and with that knowledge he would protect as many innocents as possible.

**—SYNCHRONIZATION LOST…FAST FORWARDING MEMORY TO A MORE RECENT ONE—**

Ezio yawned and stretched from his position atop the Basilica di San Pietro in Venice’s Castello district. He decided it wasn’t such a bad city; he’d gotten to know it fairly well over the two weeks spent tracking a notorious assailant targeting clergymen. The rogue assassin had a very distinctive modus operandus: each corpse suffered a single stab wound to the jugular and upon the chest were two roses, one white and one red. A new body seemed to show up every other day, always a member of a different parish than the previous victim. This indicated the assassin was highly mobile and killed indiscriminately, but what Ezio really wanted to know was why.

His chance for answers came at twilight when most of the townspeople returned home and priests came out to light the lamps surrounding their churches. Ezio spied on one now, a young fellow who glanced around fearfully and scurried like a rat. Ezio followed his route from adjoining rooftops, his worn leather boots making nary a sound. The cold night air was quickly ushering in a dense mist from the harbor; soon everything was blanketed by white, but Ezio’s sharp eyes stayed fixated on the priest in camouflaged robes.

“Wh-who’s there?!” he suddenly called, and Ezio tensed as a cloaked figure hobbled into the light. It looked like a beggar.

“Food?” the woman croaked. The priest visibly relaxed.

“Sorry, we’ve nothing here… but my family runs a bakery. I can take you there if you don’t mind a loaf of stale bread.” She nodded in agreement and the two set off, Ezio noting how the clergyman darted from lamp to lamp ahead of the beggar and constantly glanced around. It was bit ironic, really, that the men of God were so fearful of dying when they had a glorious heaven to look forward to. Ezio and his brother didn’t believe in God. A truly merciful deity didn’t let loved ones die for no reason.

The priest rang a little bell outside the bakery’s closed shutters and an older man pushed them open, perhaps his father. A faint candle illuminated the store, then the owner surrendered two loafs of bread to the beggar. Ezio heard a faint “thank you” before she shuffled off toward a bridge. He raised an eyebrow when the priest followed her instead of returning to his church. “You’re up to no good, aren’t you?” he said to the night, descending from his perch. Even though he wore white the shadows embraced him, preventing light from glinting off his metal armaments.

Just before the beggar woman reached the bridge the priest caught up to her, pushed her, made her stumble and drop the bread. He wrapped his arms around her, covered her mouth, and dragged her down into the shadow of the arch. Ezio’s ears were keen enough to catch her muffled cries for help. He vaulted the railing with his boot dagger drawn but just before he opened his mouth to ask what the hell the priest thought he was doing, he heard a sound he knew all too well followed by a squelch: a blade had sunk into the priest’s flesh. The woman straightened and spoke something to the corpse in a language that sounded vaguely familiar. She unfastened her cloak and turned it inside-out; it was now violet crushed velvet instead of brown cotton. “Turn around slowly,” Ezio commanded. “Show me your hands.”

Her head swiveled to examine him in her peripheral vision. She must not have judged him a threat because she immediately sprinted away along the edge of the canal, Ezio giving chase. The echoes from two sets of booted feet filled Venice’s streets and waterways as the woman tried to shake the Assassin, but he was on her like a sighthound. Upon entering a fountain square she whirled around, skidding on her toes, and flung something sharp and metallic directly at his head which he dropped back to avoid. Ezio plucked a throwing knife from his baldric to return fire, his lips separating in triumph when the blade embedded itself in her upper thigh. She cried out in pain but did not fall, even trying to limp away while he scrambled to his feet.

Ezio grabbed the end of her cloak and tugged, effectively placing the woman on her back. He quickly straddled her waist, pining her arms beneath his knees and smiling smugly as she struggled beneath his weight. She was slender thing with a beautiful face –he really had a thing for women with full lips– and her eyes were bluer than a Tuscan summer sky. “Get off me!” she spat.

He waggled a finger. “I don’t think so, signorina. You’re a wanted murderer and I’ve just caught you, so the only place you’ll be going when you get out from under me, alas, is prison.”

She held his gaze for a full minute, then took a deep breath and uttered, “Is that so?” Ezio felt her fully exhale the moment before her knee met the back of his head. She used his forward lurch to switch their positions, sitting on his chest and raising a hand. He noticed just in time that there was a leather bracer surrounding her forearm with a metal sheath beneath it; he turned his head to avoid the Hidden Blade seeking his eye socket, earning a scratch on the cheek instead. The woman scoffed and stood up, yanked the throwing knife from her thigh and dropped it beside Ezio before running off into the darkness, her long blonde braid the last glimpse he caught. Didn’t he know a pretty woman with flaxen hair and blue eyes? It was hard to distinguish just one from the many he was acquainted with.

Ezio righted himself with a groan, his head throbbing and blood dribbling down his cheek as he slowly made his way to the studio of Leonardo da' Vinci, who had taken up residence in Venice after the unpleasantness in Florence. “What happened to you?” the well-dressed artist inquired upon opening the door.

“I caught the woman who’s been murdering the clergymen, but she got away.”

“A _woman?_ ” Leonardo repeated in awe. “And she bested _you_ , the great Ezio, seducer of ladies and prodigal Assassin?”

Ezio was not amused. “Just put some antiseptic on this cut before it ruins my handsome face.” He waited until Leonardo began treating it. “It was made by a Hidden Blade.”

The artist faltered. “I can see that, it’s very clean. But why would she have one?”

“There’s only one explanation I can think of.” Leonardo’s eyebrows rose expectantly. “It was Roxana Hunedora.”

“Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. You have her father’s journal after all, and he was an Assassin.”

Ezio nodded, glad the genius supported his theory. Five years ago he and his brother had arrived in Monteriggioni, headquarters for the Assassins in Italy. After several emotional days they’d finally unpacked their horses only to discover Laszlo Hunyadi’s diary among Federico’s provisions. He deduced Erzsebet must have put it there at the behest of Ruxandra, but why would she want him to have one of the only remnants of her father? In an attempt to answer that question and many others, specifically those pertaining to the Ring of Hunedora, Federico became fluent in Hungarian and Romanian so he could decipher the complicated codes Laszlo utilized in his journal. After five years he’d translated about three-quarters of it, but that was because other projects had occupied his interest such as locating pages of Altaïr’s Codex and tracking down the Apple of Eden.

Leonardo put away his medical tools and sat down before the fireplace, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Let’s assume Roxana came here to retrieve her father’s journal. For what reason would she begin killing men of the cross?”

“That’s the part that makes no sense,” Ezio replied. “Now it’s obvious she uses the Hidden Blade to kill them, but I don’t understand the flowers.”

“What kind of flowers?”

“Roses, a red one and a white one.”

Leonardo chuckled a little at that, earning Ezio’s confusion. “Everything has fallen right into place, my friend. The Hidden Blade is unique to our Order. In the language of flowers, a pair of white and red roses means unity. Don’t you see?” The Assassin shook his head. “Roxana has been killing with the Hidden Blade to earn our attention, to prove she belongs with us. No doubt she wishes to uphold her father’s legacy.”

“But we don’t just go around killing anyone! There has to be a motive…” As soon as he said that it dawned on him. Perhaps Ruxandra was targeting hypocrites, men who didn’t live by the words they preached. They claimed frugality but asked for money to support aesthetic indulgence. They promoted abstinence and purity but acted on lust. They indebted those to whom they gave charity. She killed men who were not altruistic in nature.

Leonardo stood up with a smile. “I can tell by that silly look on your face you’ve had some sort of revelation. Tomorrow, find Ruxandra and take her to your patriarchs. I’m sure she’ll go with you if you ask nicely, and by that I mean you shouldn’t use the routine that gets you into ladies’ beds.”

Ezio grinned. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I generally try to avoid giving women who dislike me an opportunity to injure my favorite appendage.”


End file.
